The Power of Love

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”                                                 ---Jimi Hendrix   

I have been sick for the past week and ended up watching TV when I was not sleeping. With current news on all channels, I found it hard to watch anything that was not depressing.

While scrolling I found a conversation between Trevor Noah and a man named Simon Sinek. Evidently, Simon is widely known for his podcasts. I enjoy Trevor Noah and his outstanding memoir Born a Crime, so I tuned into the podcast. It was long but I was caught up in their conversation and didn't realize how long it was. 

The deep conversation between the two of them was an education for me. They talked about their fears, most embarrassing moments, what they liked, and didn't like, and what they had in common. 

They discussed that few men have these big conversations where they are vulnerable with each other. Simon said he tells his male friends he loves them although, that is something most men will not do. The conversation was about the lonely man with no one he could simply talk to when he had a problem. Simon says men should be able to call a friend and not get advice, but have him listen, simply listen, and support. 

They talked about friendship and how important it is to make lasting friends. I was impressed when Steven said he was lonely and not for people to be around him but for someone who would just be with him. 

"Sit in the mud with me and not try to fix me," he said. How often have I felt that way? When Barry died, all I wanted from friends was for them to sit with me and listen to me as I grieved and tried to find how to go on. No one could fix me.

This conversation between these two men gave me much to think about. They freely talked about their hang-ups. Steven hates small talk. He looks for a corner when he enters a room full of people. Yet he is a very successful speaker and podcast host.  

Like many I know, they find it awkward meeting new people. I was so like them in my youth. I was convinced I was being judged by others, and I knew all my flaws. I convinced myself I was not worthy before I entered the room.

I admire anyone who can walk into a room full of strangers and begin conversations. My husband, Barry, was the best at meeting people. It was not long before strangers were friends. Today, I enjoy meeting new people. 

Now that I am older and more experienced with social situations, I understand that most people have hang-ups about social gatherings. But I no longer feel I am being judged and, if I am, I really don't care. It took years of feeling unworthy before I reached this point. 

Trevor and Steven's conversation moved on to dealing with people who disagree with you. Trevor feels there is room for this divided nation to talk to each other. I hope we can do that.

I am pleased I learned about this South African native who had a difficult childhood in apartheid because he was mixed race. He is concerned that people today who have more material comforts than generations before them, are so unhappy, miserable with their lives, and even suicidal. Perhaps struggle is missing in their lives. When we struggle we are more appreciative of what we achieve.

It proves that too much effort has gone into making money, buying more things, and feeling successful in their big houses. But these things have not made them happy. What a shame that so much effort, energy, and sacrifice is spent on physical things instead of building relationships with people they love. It is only when one grows old and realizes that he is alone or is leaving those he loves, that what he appreciates most are people who care for him, those he has had little time for. 

I saw this in the lives of loved ones. They worked hard and strived to be financially successful. I am grateful they realized their goals. But were their relationships with their families as good as they would have liked? I hope so. 

It seems that the goal in our country today is to be ambitious, selfish, and often greedy if it makes us wealthy. Parents today push their children to go to the best colleges they can afford, to meet others on the same path. Two educated upwardly moving people marry and live the American dream. They never meet or know anyone who is struggling to pay the rent. 

My father never worked to be rich or famous. He never wanted to be above others. He worked to make a living for his family. He wouldn't have known what to do with great riches. His needs were simple.

Young Coy Council

My mother wanted to own a nice car one day. Once all her children were grown, married, and on their own, she saved and scrimped until she could buy that car. We were so happy to see her drive her Cadillac. 

But her purpose in life was to care for her family. She raised kids who made her proud because they were good people. Her eyes lit up and a big smile crossed her face when someone praised her children. 

Parents have the most influence on their children and how they grow up. Trevor Noah quotes his mother all the time. She influenced him by her example. She taught him so much about generosity and caring although she worked and struggled in a country where she could not live with Trevor's father because he was white. When she went out with her son she had to pretend he was not her child. If it was known he was her own, he could be taken from her by the authorities because he was mixed-race.

Governments can make life so hard for the people they govern. 

Our world is filled with refugees who are fleeing dictators, gangs of thieves and murderers, and evil people in power. I awake each day with a prayer of thanksgiving. I am grateful that my life has been filled with love and caring people. I don't know how I could live if I was not surrounded by them. 

My Mother, Lois, when I was a girl

Mother taught me to love and what love means. She loved her brothers and sisters and loved her parents deeply. Growing up with love in her life, she showed us by example. 

At this time in our country when we have such terrible disasters, fires, floods, and hurricanes, all around us, I hope we can all find in our hearts to love, to appreciate, to be generous with what we can do to help. I hope the spirit of meanness that hangs over the USA will evaporate like fog in the morning sun.

This comes from Maria Shriver's recent post concerning the aviation disasters of the past week.

May we think about all the families devastated by this, who lost people that they loved. Let us try to remember that life is fragile, and that we must always do our best to make sure our interactions with one another are kind, loving, supportive because none of us ever know what’s gonna happen in life. So may we always treat each other with grace and with love.

When Friends Show their Love

Just when I feel so down I could cry, I realize that I have dear friends who are supportive and generous. I mean real friends, not just friends on Facebook.

As my readers know, I have been dealing with chronic pain for the past year, and I spend much of my time these days focusing on how to rid myself of the pain, how to cure this ongoing issue. Physical therapy, chiropractic care, orthopedic massage, PRP injections and warm water exercises. At times I am not able to reach down and put on my shoes without excruciating pain. I get frustrated and angry that I can't easily do what I've always done for myself.

My two best friends, Mary Mike and Estelle, are always there for me. They listen when I need to vent and do their best to help me when I need something. Mike even offered to let me come and stay at her house where she could take care of me. Wow! And she has enough on her plate already.

Estelle Rice and Mary Mike Keller

Mike has dropped what she was doing to drive twenty-five miles to pick me up and take me home when I became ill and could not drive. I used to think only my sister would do that for me. 

Driving has been difficult for me, but not so much now. When I left to go to south Georgia a few months ago, Mike drove me half way to Atlanta where my sister, Gay, picked me up. Gay drove all the way through Atlanta like a champ. On Sunday, Gay drove us back through Atlanta but I suggested we called Mary Mike again. My friend, who had just got out of the bath and was in her pajamas, did not hesitate.

"Sure. I will get dressed and come meet you." 

Gay was exhausted. I knew she needed to get home. It had been a long hard week. I was happy she could go home to her husband. I was grateful that Mike could and would come and get me.

It is hard to have to ask others to sacrifice their time and energy for me.  I have always been a nurturer. I became a caregiver in January 1975 when Mother suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. That was when our roles reversed and I became the mother. For ten years I was on call 24/7. I would not have had it any other way. Caregivers usually feel the same.

I consider myself an independent woman who has never quit even when I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in the early nineties. Some days I suffered with fatigue so intense I wanted to lie down on the floor and sleep. If there had been a sofa in my office, I would definitely have gone to sleep. However,I learned what I must do to keep going and doing. I might have been out of commission for a few days, but I bounced back and kept on "ticking."

When my husband had cancer, I stayed with him twenty-four hours a day for weeks while he was in the hospital. But I had the support of my sweet sister, Gay. She has never refused me anything I needed, if she could give it. I don't know what I would have done without her at that time.

Me with my sweet little sister

I always knew I had family who would go out of their way and be there for me when I needed them. I did not expect to have friends do the same. 

Recently a new friend, author Carroll Taylor, drove me to Writers Night Out. She  carried my tote bag as I was learning to walk with a cane, trying not to trip myself. At the meeting, Alan Cone and his delightful wife, Mary, sat beside me. Before they left, he wrote their phone number on a sticky note and stuck it on my book. "If you need someone to give you a ride, call us. We will be happy to pick you up and take you where you need to go." 

How generous and caring, I thought. I did not expect that, but I do believe he was sincere although he and Mary live in another town.

I stopped by my mailbox and saw that someone had planted flowers around the post. 
I had no idea who did that. I asked a woman who works for me if she had done it. She is a caring person. But she said no.

"I think your neighbors planted the flowers," she said.

"Really? Why do you think that?"

"I saw one of them watering something at the mailbox."

Have you ever been caught at the grocery store with no umbrella or raincoat and the rain is coming down in sheets? I shop in a mobile cart now and was sitting near the door waiting for the rain to stop. A woman with two children in tow was busy loading her car and finding movies for the kids. When she finished, she asked me,"Do you need some help?"
I answered, "I asked a bag boy to go and bring my car up. It is right there, not far, but he hasn't come back. I'll just wait until the rain stops."
"I can get your car for you - if you trust me to do it."
"You can't do that. You'll get soaked," I said.
"No. Here, give me your keys." She put a plastic grocery bag over her hair and ran to my car. In minutes she had driven it right up to the door, opened the back and she helped me load my groceries. 
I thanked her profusely, of course. She said she lived here part time and had her grand-kids for the weekend. Her name is Linda and I am still in awe of her generosity. Every day, it seems, I run into kind and caring people.

I am not surprised. 
My neighbors, Alice and Marsha, have always been exceptionally kind to me. Alice cooks and brings me dishes that she says are healthy for a diabetic. I admit, some are not to my taste, but I love her so much for  thinking of me. Her brownies made with beans are very good. She also gave me the wonderful Taco Soup that is so versatile I have shared it with friends and family. It is one of my favorite healthy foods. 

I am fortunate to have these dear friends. They are an important part of my life. Their kindness comes from their hearts. They don't feel obligated. Some people just have that giving spirit. They were evidently taught by parents who believed in helping your neighbor.

Other friends who help me are John Buckley, Gene Vickers and Keith Norton, who will accept pay for handyman work, but barely enough to cover his cost to drive to my house.

Gay said to me recently, "You have a wonderful support group here." I agree. I would hate to leave them. I'm not sure I would ever find such kindness and caring again. 

You probably have friends like mine who go out of their way to be there for you. I know that some of you are that kind of friend to others.

Until next time, be generous with your friendship and your caring and may you receive the same in return.

The Importance of Friends

"In an earlier Blog I wrote that when I visit Senior Living Facilities, Nursing Homes, and the elderly in their homes and ask them what the one thing they would do if they could live their lives over again 90% of them respond “I would have spent more time making real friends."

This comes from a blog by Bernard Otis.
http://www.seniormomentswithbernardotis.com/2018/06/the-important-role-of-friends/

Recently I heard about a young woman who was dying from cancer. That is sad, of course, but sadder was the fact that she was estranged from her family and women from her church had to step in and become the family she needed. Someone organized a small group who took turns staying with the ill woman in her last days. She would not contact her family, so they did not know she was sick. Staying with the patient was hard for some because she became angry and bitter, and perhaps not all of those who were with her felt close enough to understand.

I know of others who have no communication with their siblings or parents and it is hard for me to fathom, but often step-brothers and sisters are not close. Divorces in families can separate the children and they grow up living on different sides of the country.

Without family, the importance of friends becomes even more vital in our lives. In today's fast-paced world, we pass and speak and say, "Let's have coffee sometime," but then we don't make the call or send the email.

How many real friends do you have? What is a real friend? To me, a real friend is one who knows my emotional scars, who has seen me at my worst and at my best. To me, a real friend is one who drops what she is doing and gets into her car to come and get me when I call because I am ill and I need someone to drive me home. She doesn't question my need. She doesn't make an excuse.

A real friend to me, is one I will think about and be concerned about when she is traveling alone or dealing with conflict in her family. I want to be there for my friend when she needs to talk about her grief or talk about the great time she had when her children, who I know by name, came to visit.

I feel fortunate that I am empathetic and can see when someone is in pain or just needs a shoulder to lean on. And I am fortunate that I have friends who are the same. All of us have those times when we are overwhelmed with despair or sadness, and we need that friend with whom we can pour out our heartfelt emotions and not be afraid they will turn away. I have that in my sister, Gay, but also in friends.

I think you would enjoy the short posts on Senior Moments with Bernard Otis. He offers us insights into ageing gracefully. I need all the help in that department that I can find.

Everybody Needs a Good Friend

Here it is Sunday again.
The weekend passed so quickly I hardly knew it. One of the best parts of this weekend was a visit with a former student of mine who is now one of my dearest friends. We both agreed we could have talked for many more hours if we had the time even though we don't see each other often.

Those are the friends we cling to in our lives and if we are lucky we never let them go. In my youth, I did not make the effort to hold on to friends, even those I thought about often, and I have some regrets about that. I can't change the past, but I do make a big effort to keep in touch with people I meet now, people who hit a note with me that resonates even when they are not near.

When we are bombarded with all the "bad news" of the world, and we might think that everyone is an enemy, if we are open to meeting others and listening to them, we see a different world. As my friend, Rebecca, and I discussed on Saturday, sometimes people are suspicious of generosity from others. They are skeptical of someone who is kind or giving. They wonder, "What does she want from me?"

I have experienced that reaction from writers when I reached out to them to help them promote their books or write an article about them. I've met some types who were so suspicious they refused my offer. As my personality type is one who doesn't get angry but feels pity for those people, I immediately wonder why they think that way. Could it be that their self-esteem is low and they can't imagine anyone wanting to do something for them without some payback?

Most writers I meet have many of the same issues with themselves as I do. We beat up on ourselves because we are not disciplined enough to write everyday. We don't submit our work. We never think it is ready to send out. We say we don't have time for our passion but will spend our time cleaning house, doing laundry and all the things we hate to do, while avoiding putting ourselves in a chair and picking up a pen or hitting the keyboard. 

We are not bad, lazy, or worthless people, and we need community with other writers to help us see that we all have similar problems. We have our needs that might not be exactly like those of others, but it helps to vent with fellow writers. 

So many of my good friends are students who took my classes in the past 8 years. In my classes we write about ourselves, share our stories and bond in a lasting way. Sometimes we cry or laugh out loud, but that is okay, too.  

Many of my friends are women I met when I took my first writing classes. For twenty years I have shared my sadness, my happiness, my successes and my failures with my fellow writers in my literary community. Some of my friends I've met through affiliation with North Carolina Writers' Network West. They don't live close to me, but we keep in touch. 

One of the highlights of this weekend was hearing the voice of a former student of mine, Staci Bell, as she called to tell me a poem and a flash fiction piece she has been wanting to place were both accepted for publication. One is for an anthology about wolves.

I am as happy for her as I would be if it were my writing that had been accepted. I know that feeling when a stranger reads your work and really likes it. When they like it well enough to publish it in a book or magazine to be read by many people, it feels like seeing your name up on a marquee on Broadway, especially when you have not had that before. 

Friends come in many ways and at any time. You never know how a person can influence your life, can help you through hard times, will need your help one day, and how much you can come to love them. Be generous to others, and they will surprise you with their own caring. 

My friends give to others in whatever way they can. 
My neighbor cooks once a week for a free noonday meal for those who need fellowship and nutrition for their bodies. Another friend, in her eighties, says cooking for others is her ministry. (To minister: to give service, care or aid; attend, as to wants or necessities.)

Maybe we can all ask ourselves what is our ministry to others? We don't have to go to church or have a calling from God to minister. 

I saw a little boy on Sunday Morning who lost his mother recently. He gives out tiny little toys to people on the street to see them smile. He just wants to make people smile and not be sad. We never know when the smallest thing can make a difference.(This story reminds me of the Little Drummer Boy)

My friends and other kind people give me hope that this world is much better than the TV news would have us believe. 
What do you think? Is human kind as bad as what is seen on television?  Do you think our parents thought the world was in deep trouble and feared for their children's future?

“I am so glad you are my friend.”

Friendship is a spiritual practice – Barbara Brown Taylor   

  

Recently a friend said to me, sincerely and quietly, “I am so glad you are my friend.”

I was moved almost to tears by this simple sentence. She and I have been friends for a number of  years, more so since my husband died. She has other friends, old friends, from many years ago. She has certain friends she spends time with each week. I am not in that circle and it doesn’t matter. I have friends that don’t include her.

How many times have you stopped and counted the people you can really call friends, not acquaintances? Are they  good friends, best friends, or occasional friends?

In my life I have had only a few best friends. When I was a young teen, my best friend was Joyce. We rode horses together and told each other our deepest secrets. A couple of years older than I, she graduated high school and entered college before I did. But we always tried to stay in touch. She and her husband, her high school sweetheart, were our first visitors in our furnished apartment right after Barry and I married. What a surprise to find that she and Barry had known each other at the university. Like many women in the sixties, Joyce dropped out of college and got married. We  never would have imagined that mistake would haunt her to death.

Joyce and Barry going to a  Georgia-Florida football game. I miss both of them.

One reason I had few close friends when I was growing up is I had a built-in friend, my sister, Gay. While we both had occasional friends, neighbors, girls we met at school, I reflect now and realize that my two friends in high school drifted away after their marriages, where I served as bridesmaid. Neither of them pursued higher education. One was eventually divorced, but the other raised a family in her husband’s home town in Wisconsin. We visited them once, and she was still the funny adorable girl I had known at sixteen, faithful to her Catholic upbringing.

In college, a girl’s school in Georgia, I met some classmates I enjoyed. We had great times laughing and talking  late into the night, trading our stories. I was awed by one girl, Peggy, the sophisticate from Washington, D..C. Dark-eyes heavily lined and mascaraed, she was crowned with a  head of jet black hair. She was independent and courageous. I had grown up with a strict father and seldom broke any rules except when I was out with Joyce who sneaked cigarettes from her family’s store and impressed me with her ability to smoke and drink when she was still in high school. 

Peggy was similar but took even more risks. She could have been sent home for slipping out of the dorm after hours to meet her boyfriend and then slipping back in after curfew. She couldn’t have done that without my help, of course, and in return she let me be her friend. I was used, but it had its rewards. Through Peggy, I met Richard, the first real love of my life. I felt extremely grateful to travel in the same circles with Peggy, who was respected all over campus. She had street smarts, but she was super intelligent and earned top grades. Her goal was to become a doctor. I heard that she reached that goal.

When I left the girls’ school to attend the university, I lost touch with Peggy and all the girls I had known and liked for the past two years. Several moved on to other schools to complete their education. Some went home to get married. I entered a school where I knew no one but my younger sister. We lived in different dorms and she made friends right away. I did not weather the change too well and wished many times that I had stayed where I was to finish my education.

Coming from a large family that enjoyed each other, much of my social life involved my siblings. My sisters-in-law often turned to me as a friend and I loved them, warts and all, but was burned when my brothers cheated or divorced their partners. How could I make a choice between a friend and a loved brother? I hated the sin, but loved the sinner.

I like the metaphor that life is a sailboat and at times the winds come up strong. We have to navigate them carefully, even changing our course sometimes. Friendship is a large part of a healthy life. Having social ties has been proven to lengthen our days on this earth. But I also believe people come into our lives and go out of our lives when they are supposed to do so. For that reason, I have no desire to seek out old classmates on Facebook.

I am so very fortunate to have my sister who will always be a huge part of my life, and a small number of good friends in my life now that I know will never turn on me or hurt me. I am glad they are my friends. 

A Good Night's Sleep Bartered for Poetry?

I have been so pleased at the number of my friends in the writing community who have told me about gluten free products available here. Today Karen Holmes brought me some delicious crackers, that I can get at the grocery store. Maren Mitchell says a local health food store carries wonderful bread! I plan to go and pick up some today.

I am pleased to say that I feel much better this weekend and have been getting some things done around here. 

Will Wright, poet and editor, and a nice young man, is my house guest. He is teaching a class at my studio this morning. Like so many of my guests, Will exclaimed that he had never had such a good night's sleep as he did in my downstairs bedroom. Karen stayed here before and she agreed. She said it is comforting, like being in the womb. Now isn't that the words of a poet?

I think it is the darkness and the quiet. With no windows to let in the morning light, a person could forget to get up. Will asked permission to come and stay one night each month just to get a really good night's sleep. I told him we could barter, my favorite thing to do. He can help me with my poetry, and I'll provide him with a room where he can rest and sleep as long as he wants.  

I am the most fortunate person I know. I have work that I love, and through that work, I meet people I enjoy and admire. Each day brings me more joy and gratitude for what I have. 

A Day in the Life

My day started off sour and got worse. I felt like going back to bed when the cleaning lady, a very nice teacher who works for a cleaning service in the summer, came in bubbly and talkative. She went right to work and I went back to bed, but in fifteen minutes I was back up and trying to make the day a little lighter.

I answered my e-mail and paid some bills online before I dressed to go out. My busy little teacher/maid dusted high and low and then tried to clean around some photo frames. That was when I heard the crash. She had bumped one of my favorite things and sent it flying to the floor. A very dear friend had given me a lovely porcelain bird that I admired and cherished. It is now broken into two parts. I knew it was an accident, but that didn't help the fact that it was ruined.

I left the house and headed for a local restaurant where I was going to meet some former students and  close friends. My whole body ached with fibromyalgia, and the world seemed darker than usual. I just wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head. Several parts of my personal life have been out of sorts lately, some of it family worry, and I am embarrassed to say that I arrived feeling quite grumpy. 

Immediately, the waitress came out and wiped off the table with a Clorox-laden rag sending clouds of chemical into the air around me. I had to leave the table and move far enough away that I could breathe safely. I don't know why restaurants around here think that Clorox is the only way to sanitize anything. Clorox is dangerous to breathe and some of us can't take it at all. The woman at Chevelle's didn't seem to notice or care that I had to leave the table. I think the service there is one of the reasons I just don't like that place. 

On top of that, one of my friends had worn perfume. She knows that her perfume makes me ill. She forgot. I love her as well as the others, but I suffer after being with her. 

In spite of everything, I enjoyed seeing them and soon they had me pouring out my tale of woe. By the time we had finished a rather poor meal with even worse service, we were all laughing and talking about how good we are for each other. They gave me wonderful advice and I will take heed to what they said. We promised to meet again next month, and I hope we can. But life is filled to the brim for all of us. One is still working and with several new clients she has a full calendar. One is a full time caregiver for his wife, but continues with his own mission for WWII veterans. Another is filled with concern for her son who is not well and for her sister who has lung cancer. So much grief but still they all gave my problems their full attention and consideration.

I came home filled with love and bathed with compassion from my friends. How could anything hurt me when I have these dear people in my life? Do you have special people that lift you up when you feel low?

I love all you readers and appreciate your visiting my blog. Thanks for leaving your comments.

A Good Day

A few days ago I sent out an email to three friends. "Join me in a Girls Only Day."

I wanted to get together with old friends who made me laugh. And laugh we did. We met at a steak house a couple of hours drive away, but in a central location for all of us. The food was excellent. We laughed so much that others in the restaurant stared and smiled. Our waitress liked us and said we could stay as long as we wanted. She even made a photo of the four of us. One of those friends today, my best friend, was my sister Gay. The other women we have known for thirty years. Before the fun began it was imperative that the serious talk take place. Illness, failing loved ones - we had to discuss, but not for long.

The recent stress in our lives evaporated while we caught up on Linda's new puppy and her husband's venture into making Andy a therapy dog. We found out that Sue's grandson had been recruited by the University of Georgia football team. I learned from the three of them where to eat in Hawaii, the delight of the fragrant air I would breathe when I stepped off the plane, and I revealed that my doctor had a time share in the same place where I will vacation this fall on my first visit to Hawaii. She had told me how beautiful it was and that I would not want to leave there. 

We laughed at ourselves, at our need to organize our homes, but our unwillingness to let go. The dread of someone throwing away our most precious possessions sent shudders up our spines.

We all agreed it had been way too long since we had spent time like this, visiting and enjoying each other. When we finally left the restaurant (the staff was preparing for the dinner crowd) we huddled outside, unable to make the final move to leave, showing photos on cell phones and telling more stories about the funny things that happen at funerals. We hugged and then finally climbed into our cars and headed home in different directions. 

My spirits had sailed aloft like a helium balloon. I didn't want the day to end. I drove past the street to my house and headed for our little town which was built on a square surrounding the original courthouse that stands waiting to be updated and made safe for gatherings. I parked and walked around the square, stopped in several places searching for a brick with our names and another in memory of my brother, Ray.We bought the bricks to help with funding the refurbishing of the courthouse some years ago.

Downtown, at six o'clock, was quiet as a church. Stores were closed. Everyone had gone home. The big shade trees seemed to hover over me, keeping me safe in the town I now call home,  continuing the warm feeling of love I had experienced with my friends.

Mary Mike at Writers Night Out

Tonight, January 14, I attended Writers Night Out where my good friend, Mary Mike Keller, was featured reader. She did an excellent job and looked beautiful. She is one of my favorite poets, but you aren't likely to see any books coming out with all of her work. She seldom submits her poems but enjoys writing and sharing them with her friends at readings and with her family.

I call her Mike, and although we are distant cousins from our Posey lineage, sometimes I feel she is more like a sister. Don't you enjoy having a special friend to whom you can talk openly and pour out your heart to her and know she will keep it to herself? Mike is the kind of friend who lets you cry when you hurt and doesn't act like it makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't try to change the subject because she doesn't know what to say.

Mike has felt sorrow herself and seen pain in others. She doesn't shun feelings. She embraces them.
I have learned over the years to let myself feel all the emotions welling up in me, hurt, pain, sorrow, and happiness and joy. I give myself to my feelings and let them out. I'm told that makes for a healthier person and I truly believe that. Keeping pain, fear, guilt or anger pushed down inside for too long causes physical and mental illness.

We all need friends like Mike who have such empathy. And we need to be the same kind of friends to others.