Friends

Friends are about the greatest thing life has to offer.  We don’t get to pick our families or our neighbors, but at least there is one area of our life we have a choice and I guess that’s just what makes our friends so great.  Sometimes, people are lucky enough to have family members that are even better than friends – I know some sisters that are like that – or they are blessed, like us, to have neighbors that are considered dear friends, but for the most part, just having one true friend is enough to make all the difference.  “To have a friend, be a friend,” as the saying goes.

When we’re gone from home for extended periods, one of our neighbors keeps an eye on our place, and another gets our mail.  The day we return from our travels, we always find our next meal waiting for us in the refrigerator.  One of our very thoughtful neighbors does that kind of thing, knowing we’ll be tired, with no energy to shop for groceries, let alone make something to eat.  It’s hard to beat that feeling of being cared for in such a way, and the food is not just appreciated, but always delicious.

One of the sweetest people I know came to our house the day before we returned from Norway this year and weeded all our flowerbeds and spruced up the yard.  She didn’t want us to feel overwhelmed when we drove in, so I guess it was in pretty bad shape.  Other friends left a “Welcome Home” banner, a flat of strawberries, and a potted plant.  Could there be a better homecoming?  How rich life is, when we know we are missed and friends are looking forward to our return.

I love that we live in a neighborhood where we all get along and on the spur of the moment, one will decide to have a backyard party and invite everyone over.  We talk about the weather, what’s happening in the Valley, what’s going on in our families and our lives. Even just spending those few precious hours together reconnecting face-to-face seems downright glorious in this land of electronic relationships and Facebook postings.  I like my friends with skin on.

We were in McCarthy, Alaska, a town of 25 people, many years ago, and I’ll never forget what one of the locals told us.  He said his first winter there, he got his snowmobile stuck in a ditch and no one that passed him by would help him.  Their attitude was that if someone wanted to live in remote Alaska, they needed to be able to take care of themselves.  Why would anyone choose to live there, I wondered? 

Isn’t being friendly, helpful, and showing kindness to even a stranger, something we all need to do?  Life there has to be the exact opposite of life here in the Skagit Valley.  I’ve never met friendlier people anywhere.  It really is pleasant here on Pleasant Ridge.