(and How Kids Show Us the Way)
Randy Newman said it best right? “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.” Without the catchy tune and lyrics, Woody, Andy, and Buzz Lightyear may not have such a prominent place in my childhood memory. There is no better display of the innocence of childhood friendships than that of Toy Story. The ability to see past the “plastic” and into the heart of those around you, is one of the greatest gifts of a child.
I have vivid memories of my childhood, playing alongside children on the playground, at church, or at school, and never even knowing their name. I can remember holding hands with a young girl and walking her over to a bench where my parents sat and introducing her as my “best friend,” having just met her. That was the beauty and innocence of being a child. Everyone was a friend. It didn’t matter how long I had known them, what color their skin was, where they came from, or where they were going, they were my friends.
It took me a long time to realize I didn’t have to be friends with everyone, and to stop expecting everyone to want to be mine. Because the truth is, our experiences in life change us. We no longer have the ability to walk up to a random person and introduce them as our “best friend.” And to be completely honest, the business of life makes adult friendship difficult. I am not naive. As a mother of five, with a full-time job, and multiple other “part time jobs,” finding the time to navigate adult friendships is tedious. Playing on the playground is non-existent. We pencil in “friend” times knowing that we chose pencil instead of pen for a reason.
Intentionality is a must when maintaining and nurturing my friendships today. These are not attributes I have always possessed. Thankfully, over the course of many years and seasons of life and friendships, these are attributes I have learned through my closest adult friends. I have learned that it isn’t important to have a lot of “best friends,” but rather to “be a friend” to all.
My ability to recognize my horrible “friend skills” came from watching my own children as they have navigated their own childhood friendships. I have learned joy from my 9-month-old daughter Adley’s smile. At church to a complete stranger behind her or to a kid running down the aisle of a grocery store, Adley sees friends. I have learned forgiveness from my 2-year-old son Ayken. When his baby sister grabs a toy car from him, instead of grabbing it out of her hand, he finds another car to play alongside. I have learned acceptance through my 5-year-old daughter Arianna. I have seen her play with “best friends” of all ages, sizes, abilities, and colors, never recognizing a difference, and never even knowing their names. I have learned empathy by watching my 8-year-old son Axton. Watching him cry tears alongside a hurt teammate, or crying when praying for someone he loves. I have learned maturity through my 10-year-old daughter Asher. Watching her navigate through “mean girl” situations, never straying from her moral compass.
I wish I had a piece of advice to leave for becoming the “ultimate best friend,” but besides making killer friendship bracelets, my advice wouldn’t measure up. The truth is being “a friend” isn’t hard when we mirror the innocence of children. So if you want advice on friendship, watch the children in your life. Or Toy Story.