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Monday, January 10, 2011

Scrappy Friends in my Family Quilt


Everyone likes a compliment. Many times though, a compliment can sound as if it's dragged out of the ditch like a battered car. We all agree that to be sincere, a compliment must come from the heart. Instantaneous or impulsive ones, though quick on the pick, can be cute scraps sewn together to make a unique quilt, especially if they come from family.

This morning I was touched by a scrappy compliment, via text message, that came from number three daughter. I can just picture her perfectly manicured nails tapping out the letters to the following electronically based compliment: 

"Good morning Sunshine. I have been reading all of ur blogs and they r very good. I liked the kiss one. I didn't like the one where u said ur kids have a phobia about being ur friend. I will however forgive this small oversight if a blog is written just for me...hehehe. I don't know about the other humans u gave birth to, but I want to be ur friend and that's a good thing...to honor my statement I would like to invite u to a friends only lunch...where as u may have guessed only friends r invited..." 

My obvious reply was to accept the invitation. After all, in this economy any kind of a free lunch is better than no lunch, except, of course, if it's Hot Pockets, and provided I was given rights to use the material I gathered for another post about friends. (I'm desperate y'all.) Also, that I would not be required to pay her royalties since I haven't made a dime for any of my written words yet, but that I will gladly share once I hit the big one :) 

To daughter number one, if you're reading this, and daughters two, three and five, and number one son, that phobia comment was just for fun. I consider each one of you my friend because there are none better than the ones you feed, water, and raise yourself. If any of  you want to invite me to lunch I will be happy to accept. Sharon, my indulgence in your invitation will have to wait until God provides the transportation. 

I do consider it a huge compliment to know my adult children want to be my friends. It tells me they have forgiven me for messing up their lives with child labor laws, curfews, bedtimes, accountability, public affection, photographs, and butt tanning. It also means they have come into their own, and recognize we humans are all dysfunctional to some degree and will make oodles of mistakes in the name of love and protection. I hope they also understand that they didn't come with a 'How to Parent for Dummies', and they were not perfect children. Each one of them, in some way, gave us a run for our money on the family racetrack.

My family ... all of us squeezed into one square yet each bordering the next, and each with our own design and style; attempting to pattern ourselves after love and laughter, but we are just scraps trying to figure out where we fit while sharing a common thread. Sometimes complimenting one another and other times inflicting pain as sharp as a needle. We're little, and torn, and sometimes we unravel, but still good. 

Someone once said, "A house filled with love has expandable walls", but I think a house filled with scraps makes one beautiful quilt. 


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