Making friends gets more difficult as you get older. At least making good ones. It’s as if we’re barraged with a grab bag of factors that come into play. You find there’s a never-ending list as you accumulate interests, experiences, and other relationships. Suddenly friend disqualifiers abound as your husbands meet… Awkward. And the new folks root for that other team/political party/ridiculous reality TV show star… Really?! And you watch their children stomp on your little one’s toes… on purpose. Oh, no-way-Jose, buddy!
I remember when the only friend dis-qualifier was apathy towards Jem. Which happened never.
Maybe you get past all of those shallow disagreements. And you can’t feel like yourself around them for some odd reason. Conversation is clunky, there’s no spark. Is that a thing?.. As in “friend chemistry?” And you find that it is. You can’t explain it, but some sort of mojo is definitely not percolating.
I remember when I just couldn’t “click” with that girl that was so nice to me on the bus. Why was that? It rattled me then, too.
Or sometimes you muscle through the lame exchanges, you forgive their bizarre taste in favorites, and you become more than neighbors/acquaintances/coworkers. You drive home from dinner with them and rather than picking questionable exchanges apart, you and your husband utter a simple, “that was fun.” Ahhhh. Fresh air.
And maybe you [call and] tell your mom that you made a new friend.
Funny how things haven’t changed much.
And yet when I watch my kids make friends, it looks completely different. No interview process is going down. Actually, very few words are spoken at all… at least on the onset. It’s as if the kids share this common understanding: you’re a kid, I’m a kid, let’s play. They’ll figure out whether it’s a love connection as playtime unravels. They know there’s a chance that this other person may not be kind, they may not like the same things as they do or he/she may not get them excited for life. But that will all show itself later.
I’ve lived in Rochester for almost two and a half years now. I’m still very much a newbie. I still ask Siri how to get me to Quarry Hill. (Yes.) And I still find myself confirming with others, “Are we really supposed to shovel the sidewalk?… Like, every day?!” But I can say with surprising peace that I’ve made friends here!
I will not minimize it. It’s a lot of work to make connections with the people around us. It takes time and hope and endurance just as much as it takes initiative, intentionality and perseverance. A new person to town is constantly feeling vulnerable as they “put themselves out there” while feeling doubtful that their newness will ever wear off. Lots of emotions and lots of giving yourself grace and time.
As I look at the relationships I’ve made, they came both by way of intentionality and haphazardly. There’s no formula. I will say, though, that I’ve found a common thread: we were doing stuff. I didn’t have a toy in my hand—well, not my own—but we were busy with something. We were wrapped up in something other than the question, “does she like me?” or “will this go anywhere?” We somehow lost some lessons of friend-making from childhood to adulthood. Blame adolescence and all its baggage, but we’ve lost the awareness that fun things happen when you play.
We’ve gotten all heady about things that are hearty. We know what we want, we craft a few questions and steps to assure us of that end, we execute. Some of us opt to tell our life’s story, thinking that this knowledge would put us all in a better place to connect. Maybe. But how dynamic is your relationship with the last person from HR who interviewed you? They know a lot about you! Now, how dynamic is your relationship with your coworkers or bosses—past or present? I bet you could tell us some stories. I bet you could tell us what they’re like. And I bet you like them a lot more than ol’ Barb from Staffing.
Stuff happens when you do stuff.
And get this: there’s a bonus. If your friendship didn’t go anywhere, you did something. You may have a byproduct of your efforts… involvement in a city-wide project, a T-shirt from that conference you attended, or a painting that only one hundred others in town could compare to. At the very least you know somebody you can wave to at the grocery store. Don’t take that for granted: being known will make you feel more integral than knowing people ever will. We all want to be known.
I mentioned my little introverted kindergartner in a previous post. Do you know what made him come out of the shell he had made of his own skin? On day three of having stitches, I dropped him off earlier at school. Half of the kiddos were in their line, most of them were boys. He wasn’t so much as making eye contact with anyone, and none of the squirmy chatter was directed toward him. I was watching my son quietly retreat from enjoying the company of vibrant others around him. Go-getter mom kicked in at full effect. Squatting down near them, I asked for their names, I asked them if they like monster trucks… you know, all of the types of things my son needed to know. And then I asked them if they knew who “this guy” was, pointing at my son. All of them blurted his name out, as if they’d get candy for the correct answer (those eager, little new-schoolers)! My boy was BEAMING. They knew his name! He was recognized, perhaps even known! I could tell his heart was about to burst out of his chest. He turned a corner that day. He felt comfortable, and feels like he solidly belongs in his class.
If you’re new to town, believe me: you are not alone. It’s just a matter of time before your eager efforts propel you to a feeling of being settled. I’ve moved at an average turnover rate of 3.5 years and being the new kid has only gotten harder. What has gotten easier, though, is finding things to do or be involved with. Take on a “sure, I’ll go check that out” attitude, and if it doesn’t pan out, quit. No one quite knows what they’re getting themselves into until they’re knee-deep. (Any mommas want to back me up with an Amen?!) Getting busy will do so very much for your friend quotient and belonging quota. Rochester awaits you, friend.
