The Green Plate

I broke a plate tonight in my haste to get the dishwasher emptied so I could wake up to a clean kitchen.  And as I gazed at the shattered pieces which shot out in a ten foot radius, I found myself sad.  Unspeakably so.  I brushed it off.  It’s just a plate, for goodness’ sake!  And yet, I remained sad.  My perfect set of ten was now a mere nine. 

It wasn’t a high end plate.  A nice, just-the-perfect-shade-of-green stone-ware plate that I got at Pier One about 15 years ago with a Christmas gift certificate.  I really like these plates.  They’re durable.  Very.  On more than many occasion I have rapped them hard on the edge of my counter top in my hurry to load them INTO the dishwasher, and voila!  No damage!  Not like the sunny yellow earthenware plates I got at Ross about five years ago.  THAT set of ten quickly dwindled to eight, with at least four of the existing ones with ugly, white chips on their edges.  You can LOOK sternly at them and they wilt, little chips bursting off their edges just from a withering glance.

So.  What IS the big deal?

These plates have been through a lot with me.  Young kids who really only wanted to eat pizza, spaghetti and Chinese take-out off these plates.  Then, as they got older, they AND their friends would eat things like chicken piccata (sans capers, of COURSE!) and shrimp Alfredo, or maybe lamb osso bucco or a nice curry, and there were always enough plates to go around.  These plates endured two moves, unscathed.  You could stick ‘em in the freezer without ill affect, and then could put them in the over (not over 350 degrees!) if needed, too.  They’ve been my every-day plates, my go-to plates.  Sure, sometimes they sit back and take a break when I upgrade to my fussy white and gold porcelain plates, but I always return to my trusty green plates.

So, again.  What’s the big DEAL?

It occurred to me:  these plates, my green, tough and tumble plates, they are like friends.  Good Friends.  Friends that can be accidently knocked….hard, sometimes… and they’ll just carry on, being my friend.  Sometimes these Good Friends will take a back seat for more glamorous acquaintances, but they really don’t care.  They know that there’s nothing quite like a Good Friend that has been there for the long haul.  And you can bring them ‘round to dinner parties and you know they’ll be just exactly what you need them to be:  Good.  Sound.  Reliable.

Friends that have been with me through all the years passed.  Have been involved in the comings and goings of my life.  The ones who know what things have hurt me the most, deep, down, in the heart where it physically hurts, where pain shoots to the tips of my toes and fingers.  The Good Friends who know what my highest points have been as well, where joy has seeped out the corners of my eyes and slipped down my cheeks, leaving pale trails in my blush...and they’ve shared those tears of joy along with me.

And then there are my Good Friends who are new.  The shiny ones. The ones who don’t know my whole life story, which I find so refreshing at times, don’t you.  But they’ve seen glimpses into my torments and ecstasies.  They’ve seen shadows of past guilt that has driven me into dark corners, and traces of fear that have caused me to clamp my mouth shut hard, and suddenly silent.  They have seen.  And they have begun to journey it with me.  Because I have started to share those things with them.  Begun to open up, to explore the beauty of new journeys with new friends.

And then, suddenly, a Good Friends seems to be absolutely. ripped. away.  Maybe through death.  Maybe by moving away.  Maybe a careless word, or series of careless conversations that were too one-sided, or too self-centered, or just too-too much.  And then, that trusty friend, the one you always could count on, the one who knew it all, and felt it too, is suddenly gone.  Scattered. 

So now what?

It’s a cycle, really.  At some point, I’ll probably have no fabulous green plates left.  Over the next twenty years, as I continue to age, and my fingers become less reliable, I’ll probably drop a few more.  Carelessly.  Yet accidentally.

And so it is with friends.  But is that the trend I’m happy to accept?  Is it not important to continue to make new Good Friends?  Not that I want to collect 300.  But a strong set of, say, ten good friends? Five?  or even just two? To share my joys with?  My fears?  My triumphs?  My heart?  And to shares theirs too…

Yep.  It takes work.  It requires vulnerability.  Absolute mercy and grace.  On both parts!  And yep, it’s totally worth it.

I just did a quick Google search for Proverbs about friends.  Some really tickled me.  Some, not so much.

Proverbs 18:24

Some friends may ruin you, but a real friend will be more loyal than a brother.

Ack!  I mean, yes to the closer than a brother/sister, but ruin?!?

Proverbs 17:17

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.

I never had a brother, but my big sister fought many “battles” in my stead.  She’s a keeper.

Proverbs 27:6

Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy.

I LOVE this one!  A friend will speak the truth to me in love, even when it hurts.  

Proverbs 27:9

Oil and perfume make the heart glad, and the sweetness of a friend comes from his earnest counsel.

Isn’t that the perfect chick verse?  We all love a little oil and perfume, right?  And the best thing ever is the sweetness of a Good Friend who offers “earnest counsel”.

Lord, please, let me be that.  Let me pour earnest counsel, sweetness, and perfume into the hearts of my friends.  Let ME be a Good Friend.

So, to sum it all up, here’s my paraphrase:

A good friend is like a green plate:  steady, durable, and enjoys a good meal with me.