Attributes of an Outstanding Friend

 

The attributes of a good friend as evidenced by the outstanding characteristics my current friends exhibit:

 

Steve – In all situations, I’m convinced that Steve will not only know what to do, but execute it well and explain why his solution makes sense. He knows pretty much everything and is good at pretty much everything, and I’m often jealous of how much he understands. He also manages this without coming across as a know-it-all, because he’s also rather humble.

 

 

Lori –The primary reason I believe Lori and I have managed to remain friends is her calm and steady nature. In spite of several years when I was almost completely unavailable to Lori, we’re back to hanging out on a weekly basis. Most friends would have been like, “Screw Katie! She clearly doesn’t care about me!” However, Lori has never once made me feel terrible for my “Drops of Jupiter” trek out into the land of Salsa dancing and angsty stupidity.

 

 

Dave – My favorite attribute of Dave’s is the grace with which He corrects me. He’s observed quite a few of my darkest moments and managed to simultaneously rebuke, edify, and comfort me.

 

 

Lisa – Lisa is the best listener I know. God gave us two ears and one mouth because we’re meant to talk half as much as we listen, right? Lisa not only listens and asks questions, but she makes her words count. She doesn’t speak frivolously or carelessly; she uses her words to build up.

 

 

Matt – Of all my friends, the one I most often hope will be at group events is Matt. He lightens the mood, makes people laugh, teases, and plays. It doesn’t matter which combination of people show up to an event; if Matt is there, I feel confident I’ll have a good time.

 

 

Ashly – I think I have more in common with Ashly than I have with anyone else in my life. She loves literature, understands Comicon and other geeky fun, and just generally enjoys the things I also enjoy. She’s also a high school English teacher, which gives us hours of material to discuss.

 

 

Amy the Dentist – I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who is quite as humble as Amy is.

 

 

I think I’ve been in a phase of bad friendship. I’ve struggled to listen or even care about the people in my life. I haven’t prayed well for them or thought about what I can do to help them out, and I’ve been disappointed to discover incompetence, flakiness, condemnation, selfishness, rain-on-the-parade, and arrogance in my heart.

 

 

The Set Up

A couple of years ago, someone very dear to me accusingly pointed out that I have a tendency toward closer friendships with pastors than most people have.

And sure, he was sort of  right.

At my first church, my pastor got me a job working for him. He was a radiologist who read the nighttime E.R. images for most of Tucson. He worked out of his house, and he needed a reading room assistant to deal with faxes and phone calls. It was a sweet gig, because E.R.s aren’t always busy at night, so there were nights when I didn’t do much of anything. I’d read or nap, and there were quite a few times when Mr. Bossman Radiologist would come and talk with me while we waited for work to come in.

Then, there was my second pastor, who I’ve written about quite a lot because he has become a dad to me.

Then, there was my third pastor who became one of my closest friends.

So… now that I’ve moved on to a newer church, I find myself hesitating. With Pastor Pete, he’s got quite a lot going on with a newish church plant that’s growing, so I’ve been able to fade into the background pretty well. However, we’ve now got an interning pastor who is also my Bible study leader, and he’s taking a special interest in me that I’m irrationally fighting.

And yes – it’s stupid. My friend should not have so carelessly passed judgment. Without thinking much about it, he implied an impropriety that didn’t exist, a warped ambition in my heart, and any number of other unfounded and hurtful judgments. I believe that if he knew how much his comment tortured me, he would rescind it immediately and tell me that each of the relationships I’ve had with a pastor was a gift from God. But a broken heart isn’t easily mended, and discovering his true opinion of me certainly broke my heart.

And yet, broken heart or no, Andy, my interning pastor has been kind and generous with me, in using me as an example when advising others, in pushing my name forward as someone who might be perfect for this or that, and now, by going out on a limb to set me up with one of his friends. So it seems that regardless of my attempts at anonymity with church leadership, Andy and I will be friends, unless…

Well, the blind date set up thing is one of the more awkward obstacles that can happen to any friendship, because there are terrible pitfalls that could lead to any number of bitter regrets by everyone or anyone involved. What if it doesn’t work out? What if it does? What if I have to stop going to the only Bible study my church offers that I really like? What if it gets awkward and ruins my friendship with Andy’s wife? What if… what if… what IF…?

So there we are, at church, and Andy walks up to me and offers an exaggeratedly tentative, “Hiiiiiiiii.”

“You’re going to ask me to do something,” I say.

And he launches in to a highly prepared speech about someone named Ethan (I think that’s his name). Andy has mentioned Ethan to me a few times before, because when Andy and I met, he immediately identified me as a good match for Ethan. He goes to ComiCon and is a delightful, God-fearing nerd… as am I, evidently.

So… in spite of my awkward prediction that the set up would ruin all friendships involved, Andy will be giving Ethan my number, so wish me good luck with Ethan and Andy. I pray that I will be a blessing to both regardless of what the future holds.

And Question: How close should the shepherd/sheep relationship really be? I tend to believe that pastors should have personal relationships with everyone they lead, but then there’s the whole mega-church thing that makes pastors into inaccessible celebrities, and I don’t believe there’s anything inherently wrong with that. Thoughts?

 

Finding and Being an Excellent Critique Partner… And Friend

Mémoires d’un critique (1896) by French writer Jules Levallois (1829-1903) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Every time I come across a blog or forum with “critique partner classifieds”, I enter a description of my manuscript. Usually no one responds, but, even so, I’ve been blessed with a handful of short, helpful partnerships throughout the past three years. Recently, I entered an ad on Mary Cole’s blog Kidlit, hoping some magic might connect me with the long-term partner I’ve been seeking.

It didn’t.

A writer (who will remain Nameless) contacted me, saying something like: I”‘m writing a contemporary YA romance and would love to exchange query letters and first chapters.”

Even though romance isn’t my thing, I responded. I let her know that I haven’t yet written a query, but offered to exchange first chapters. I also gave her some background on myself (always a good idea when attempting to build any type of relationship out of thin air) and my first chapter. In the background, I gave her the basics… unpublished, unrepresented, big-picture critquer who is good with plot structure and character development… Plus, the personal… 28, interested in minority main characters and the church, high school English teacher, etc…

My expectation: I thought Nameless would probably write up an email about her background and her manuscript, letting me know what she wants feedback on, her vision for her current manuscript, and her writing experience. I thought she’d probably attach her first chapter, and take a week to look over what I sent her.

Reality: Nameless responded two hours later with her critique of my work. It was two paragraphs long. The first paragraph said that she thought I should show rather than tell. The second paragraph was a quote from Writer’s Digest. Then, she attached her query letter and the first three chapters of her manuscript.

Okay, so I get that there are writers out there who haven’t done the critique partner thing before, and they deserve some slack. It seemed like Nameless was one of those. However, what she did was INCREDIBLY rude for at least two reasons:

• She didn’t give me helpful feedback. EVERYONE who’s done ANY research on the craft of writing knows the phrase “show; don’t tell”. Everyone. Therefore, the point of having a critique partner is to help with that. She’s supposed to SHOW how to do it by pointing out specific sentences/passages in my writing where I should have done it, but didn’t. She’s supposed to offer her thoughts on individual words in my manuscript as well as an overall critique. She should also be asking questions, offering opinions, and editing my conventions. Instead, she spent a few minutes meeting an obligation so that we could move on to her.

• She sent me MUCH more work than I sent her. In the beginning of a partnership, there’s a balance that has to be achieved. It’s chapter for chapter, because neither of us has committed to the partnership or knows what the partnership will look like. She sent me AT LEAST three times as much work as she did for me, which left me with the unfortunate dilemma of how much feedback to give her. I knew I didn’t want to be her partner, but I didn’t want to be a critiquer like her. I wanted to be helpful and selfless in the relationship even if she wasn’t.

So… I took almost exactly a week to get back to her and began my email with the following:

“Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. I was having a dilemma about how much feedback to give you. I’m used to inserting comments into the document, and giving specific feedback, but I decided to mirror your style as best I can.”

That was my polite way of pointing out her error. I figured she just didn’t know how things work and needed a gentle nudge,

Then, I wrote close to ten paragraphs of critique on her first chapter and query letter. Normally, I’d have written those paragraphs AND inserted my comments into the actual document, investing about 45 minutes per page she sent, and it killed me to only complete less than half of the job.

My expectation: I thought Nameless would see how much feedback I’d given her, and realize what this critique partner thing entails. I thought she might even go back and re-read my first chapter so she could make the trade a little more equal.

Reality: She responded with two different emails. In one, she wrote that my critiques were right in line with what she was hearing from agents (whoohoo!), but that she wasn’t sure what she should do to fix the problematic premise of her story. In her second email, she wrote about how she’d written an alternate version of her opening chapter and wanted me to look at it. As an afterthought, she suggested I send her more of my manuscript.

After that, I realized that my true annoyance didn’t have anything to do with her inexperience; it stemmed from my expectation that critique partnerships should be similar to friendships. I believe that being an excellent critique partner requires the same character qualities and skill set that friendship requires. In order to critique well, I have to put aside my thoughts about what I’m working on… and replace them with thoughts about what my partner is working on. I have to resist the urge to use her… and instead help her. And she has to do the same for me.

Sadly, I’m not 100% sure Nameless even read what I sent her. She was so focused on her story and her characters that she couldn’t even spare a week to think about mine. She was looking for a hired hand rather than a friend. She wanted someone to serve her, but she was unwilling to serve another oblivious to her call to service. Had she hired me as a freelance editor, I would have gladly worked on her project without any help for mine, and perhaps she would be better off taking that route, but a voluntary partnership shouldn’t be quite so one-sided.

Last week, I let Nameless know that it wasn’t going to work out, but now, I’m wondering if I should tell her why. Should I just move on, or provide her with a bit more feedback? Does she need help understanding the etiquette of critiquing? Or am I an ass to even think about telling her how it should be done?

 

10 Reasons Lisa is the Best Woman I Know

10. The advice. Lisa knows everything (or at least almost everything). In my experience, Lisa is capable of giving advice about friendships, travel, romance, food, exercise, family, pets, anxiety, faith, and everything else you could ever imagine (except comicon, but I’ve got that one covered on my own).

9. Knowledge of the kitchen. I’ve become pretty decent in the kitchen in recent years, and that’s only been possible because Lisa tells me about things like spaghetti squash.

8. Fierce/funny side. The moments when Lisa unleashes a raised tone are super-rare, but they’re pretty awesome. My favorite one happened when I wasn’t taking help that I needed, so she was all like, “Katie! Take the help!” Of course that wasn’t exactly what she said, but what’s important is that she has that in her. She isn’t the type to just sit back and let other people have all of the personality and fun.

7. Smooth-criminal conversations. So… I just put the criminal part in there for fun, but one of the things I admire most is Lisa’s ability to talk to people about their lives without that feeling of awkward or “What do I say now?” She sort of helps people talk to her, which is pretty cool.

6. She’s a pretty lady who has class. She dresses in a completely casual, but nice sort of way, and she always looks amazing. It doesn’t matter if she’s dressed up all fancy or wearing work-out clothes, she seems comfortable and lovely at the same time. Also, she never makes the women around her feel like they’re less than she is, even though she is obviously better-dressed for every occasion. She also has a pretty hot bod since she’s always working out

5. Mommy-ness. When I get around kids, I’m a mess. I’m one of those people who doesn’t feel comfortable talking to them in baby-talk, so I talk to them like they’re adults, and usually what I’m saying is, “If you cry right now, I’ll begin to believe you hate me, and that will ruin my self-esteem. I’ll get depressed, and neither of us wants that, right? Right.” But Lisa has this ease with kids of all ages… an ease that I aspire to someday.

4. Lisa is smart, but she isn’t mean. She reads books, and, of course, I love people who read books, but the majority of my experience with people who read books is that they want everyone to know that they read.

3. Cancer. Enough said.

2. Lisa is my living example of Proverbs 31… She is an excellent woman. “She is far more precious than jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good, and not harm, all the days of her life. She… works with willing hands… She rises while it is yet night and provides food for her household… She dresses herself with strength and makes her arms strong…. She opens her hand to the poor and reaches out her hands to the needy… Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates.”
(Proverbs 31:10-31 ESV)

1. She is the woman I hope to one day become. There are so many women in this world who I absolutely wouldn’t want to be, because they are less than I expect of myself. I wouldn’t want to look, think, act, live, love, eat, serve, cook, run, talk, or do much of anything the way they do it. But I want to do all of those things the way Lisa does them. I want to be just like her in a completely childish way. I’m that kid in the corner who imitates the way she sits, how she puts food on her fork, how she uses her napkin, etc… I want to be just like her, and not just in her virtues, but also in the unique traits of her personality.

 

Ten Lessons I’ve Learned Well This Year…

10. I’ve learned that a person’s TV consumption is a pretty good indication of his sanity. Steve and Lori have been telling me this for years, but I’ve always been a student of the Stephen King school when it comes to the television. He tells us that writers should pretty much never watch TV, but I’ve come to disagree with him. I think people who don’t watch TV are crazy. I think they (generally) have an inability to relax and build comfort in relationships, because TV is one of the easiest ways to connect with another person on a deeper level without forcing it. People who don’t watch TV also frequently don’t appreciate story as thoroughly as they should, and I, of course, believe that story is built into human psychology, wiring us to relate to each other and the world through story. Also, consider how much you learn about a person by observing his entertainment choices. You can tell what sort of jokes he will laugh at, who he wants to be (because he probably emulates the characters he watches on TV), and how to be a better friend/sister/lover/etc… to him.

*Disclaimer: watching too much TV will rot your brain, so enjoy in moderation.

9. Even though I hate YouTube for turning us all into idiots, my life is occasionally enriched because of it. Example:

I came across that video while completing the four required hours of defensive driving class I had to complete because of my stupidity in speeding. I’m not sure if this counts as a lesson I’ve learned well, but I wanted to include it for your enjoyment anyways.

8. I’ve learned that belly-button lint is a real thing. I honestly thought it was imaginary until Eucalyptus Biscuit explained it to me.

7. I’ve learned that students want to have fun and will intentionally try to improve my mood if I’m having a bad day. I should be gentler with them.

6. I’ve learned that civil wars are more fascinating than most other pieces of history. First of all, I love the oxymoronism of a civil WAR, but I also just wonder at the variables that make for a split of that magnitude. Civil wars are divorces of gargantuan proportions, and, after watching several history channel specials that I checked out from the library, I learned that George B. McClellan had an exponentially more difficult task than Lee had in the U.S. Civil War. McClellan was criticized and was even removed from command because of his slow and somewhat gentle decisions toward the South. However, Lee just needed to win the war, but McClellan was trying to win without crushing his opponent. He needed to win without making it impossible for the South to hold their heads up as they rejoined the Union. Perhaps that’s how all battles should be fought… especially those we fight with friends.

5. I’ve learned that the library is a shining replacement for Netflicks, Redbox, Blockbuster, iTunes, Barnes & Noble, Cable, the internet, and high school. I’m sure my friends are tired of hearing about it, and yet, “I will sound my barbaric yawp from the rooftops of the world!” The library is AMaZING!

4. I’ve learned that I’m a better person when I don’t have to go to work. I know that makes it seem like I’m a lazy bum who just wants to play Assassin’s Creed III when she should be contributing to society (which is sometimes true), but if you were to send my console up in flames, the likelihood that I’d hit you for it substantially decreases when I’m not teaching. In fact, if I were on Winter Break when you did it, I might throw my TV into the flames as well and then dance around with joy just for the fun of it. Working drains me of kindness, humility, and humor, which makes me wonder if there’s any remedy for my constant case of the Mondays that doesn’t involve arson and/or unemployment.

3. I’ve learned that my beliefs about home aren’t what one might expect. In my previous house, there were Alix (aka Eucalyptus Biscuit) and Amy. Alix hugged me every morning before work and texted anytime she went to the store just to ask if I needed anything. Amy did my hair up pretty anytime we went out looking fancy and she taught me how to paint. I struggled a lot living with them, because in addition to being lovely girls who made life fun, they like to talk and I don’t really. Also, it was the first time I’d lived with anyone other than my parents, so I didn’t know how things should work or what was expected. My current home is lovely for opposite reasons, like alone and quiet time. Yet I’m also sad that there’s little for me to mention about the apartment because nothing much happens at home nowadays. I don’t have a nickname for Shasta and there isn’t a mysterious gnome war to fight; she’s never farted in front of me or introduced me to odd British TV shows. She comes and goes, and I come and go, but I find myself wishing home had a few more quirks to it. As I prepare for home-ownership, I also hope for another roommate or two. While having extra income from rent would be nice, and I’m looking forward to the opportunity to potentially bless others by keeping that rent low, I also savor the anticipation of the next roommate(s). Both my joys and growth of the past three years can only be accounted for in the context of home, and I’m looking forward to the promise of tomorrow.

2. I’ve learned that giving up Cambodia isn’t all that bad. Some of you have been around to read my yearnings for a home overseas, but Cambodia isn’t just Cambodia to me; it’s symbolic of flight. Being tied down to Tucson and the people whose lives I inhabit is terrifying, but keeping Cambodia in my back pocket is a cheap defense against vulnerability. While I know that buying a house doesn’t equal a travel-less, adventure-less life tied to those 1600 sq ft forever, it is a step toward the abyss of normalcy. It’s a veiled admission that I don’t have to be more than normal, although I’ve always expected myself to do and be more.

1. I’ve learned that friend is a silly word because of its vagueness. After all, I’m friends with the teacher who has a classroom next to mine; I’m friends with that boy who didn’t take the risk; I’m friends with people I’ve known for ten years, as well as a few I’ve only known for ten days; I’m friends with my current roommate and the ones I used to live with; several of my students even insist that I’m their friends (although I deny it vehemently); I’m friends with people I like and a few I don’t. Luckily I don’t have a Facebook profile, otherwise the list of complications would continue indefinitely. So… the truth behind this lesson isn’t that friend is a silly word, but that there are varying levels of friendship, and the greatest betrayal comes from one person believing the friendship is of the highest degree and priority, while the other is only in up to his ankles.