Do you have a picture that hangs on your wall that you rarely pay attention to, but when you do notice it, it brings a smile to your face. Perhaps you have a blanket or a throw on your couch or chair that you pull around you when you’re cold and it warms you and fills you with comfort.
That was my friend, Harriet.
I saw my friend once a week, and though we rarely had an in-depth conversation, I always took comfort in knowing that she was there and she was my friend.
And then one day, she was no longer there.
Harriet came to me one day several months ago, deeply concerned about a serious health issue that she was facing. We talked for a while, and I prayed with her, not knowing that it would be our last conversation together. Thankfully, she passed quietly without much suffering. It was the way she wanted to go. And I was glad for her.
What made Harriet so special? She was nothing like me. She was my opposite in every way.
Harriet was quiet, thoughtful, shy, somewhat reserved, and very self-conscious. She was a gentle soul. I wanted to be just like Harriet. Instead, while Harriet would sit quietly in an arena seat and enjoy a hockey match, I would be banging on the glass yelling, “Punch him! Hit him with your stick! You hit like a girl! My grandma is tougher than you!” My husband quit taking me to the games. He said I always try to pick a fight with the players or obnoxious people in the stands.
While Harriet attended parties and sat shyly and unassuming on the sidelines watching the other guests and enjoying the conversation all around her, I was the one laughing, cutting up, and spilling everything down the front of my shirt and all over the floor. I was the one who hugged a friend, got my bracelet caught in her new sweater, and in our attempts to extricate myself, ended up picking the material and ruining it.
At church events, Harriet would be uncertain of what she should do or say when asked for her opinion, when I had no trouble at all shouting out my opinion and making a complete nuisance of myself.
A lady once told me that I was too noisy, and needed to develop a spirit of quiet, meekness and calmness. She hurt my feelings so badly. But I decided to try and take her advice. So for several weeks, I stayed quiet and sat on the sidelines making no comment and watching others. Do you know what I discovered? Everyone thought I was sick. It caused even more attention to be drawn to myself because I was acting out of character.
My mother told me years ago that even as a toddler I acted large and in charge. In elementary school, I always made my friends play school while I was the teacher. We sometimes played church and I was the preacher. Boy, did I give them an earful, too. I drove them nuts.
I was always a bossy little thing and nothing changed over the years. Now I’m a bossy old thing. So yes, I always wanted to be a Harriet type person. It was not meant to be.
I cause mayhem everywhere I go, I’ve never met a stranger, I have an opinion on everything, and I get frustrated easily if things are moving too slowly for me. I want to make a decision fast and move on. I also detest feeling helpless. So when Harriet came to me and told me she was dying, I was sad and I immediately felt the hole that would be left when she was gone.
And then when she did pass away, I thought back and wondered why she came to me and told me her prognosis. There were so many other people she could have gone to, many others she was closer to, but she came to me.
Why?
After thinking about this for a while, it dawned on me that the people in this world who are fun- loving, loud, boisterous, and volatile play a very important role in this world. They bring comfort and joy to people who need it. They console, commiserate, support, cheer, gladden, sooth, encourage, and lift desperate people. No one has to leave his or her comfort zone when someone who is animated, exuberant, and high-spirited is there to take the role of the leader and put everyone else at ease. They feel safe. They are reassured that they don’t have to make decisions or be put on the spot. The rip-roaring, clamorous folks are there to deal with it all.
I am finally satisfied with who I am. I would like to think that maybe, just maybe I helped Harriet feel better. I don’t think she would have been as comfortable talking with someone reserved and restrained.
So to the lady who told me once long ago to develop a spirit of quiet, meekness, and calmness?
“NAH!”