a letter to a friend

I give myself a bit of credit there, calling an e-mail a letter. Heh.

How many old friends do you keep in touch with? I do what I can. E-mail has proven to be a mixed blessing. You know how it goes. You could e-mail at any time! With potential for immediate reply! But how often do you ... and it just doesn't feel the same. Then again, it's a lot quicker and more convenient, and that is worth its weight in gold-pressed latinum.

About my friend. This is a guy -- a German, though he had such an amazing command of the English language, it was easy to forget he was a German -- who sang in the church choir with me when I was in Germany. Have I blogged about this church choir? I can't remember. My previous singing experience was a class my freshman year of high school, which was hideous because no one in there really cared or wanted to practice, and it would take us weeks to learn a song and then perform it badly. And, singing praise in church. Going from that to this choir was like ... going from moldy bread and water to rich sustenance that your body wasn't perhaps ready to digest yet. The choir director was terrific, though he tinkered a bit overmuch with how we did the songs, to the extent that we were altering things right before we sang them. Much of the choir had been together for decades -- one time we practiced a song from Handel's Messiah TWICE before we performed it. They told me, "Just sing softly if you don't feel confident." Gulp.
It was a great experience. We even toured a bit. But I digress.

So this guy, interestingly named Christian, and I were casual buddies. I knew he liked me, but I chose to ignore that fact, and he chose to deny it. *eye roll* We took a couple day trips to amusement parks together. There's nothing like Germany's version of a Disney knockoff. One was a coal-mine ride, sponsored by Michael Jackson. (insert joke here)

So anyway. I correspond with this guy, oh, every other year or so. Here's my take: He's trying so desperately hard to come across as cool that it's painfully clear how desperately he wants to be. Which makes him so NOT cool. And he'd also like you to think he doesn't care what you think. But he cares SO MUCH. ... I don't care about cool! Sheesh. I just like people who are genuine, and who like other people, and who like themselves. I guess this isn't easy for everyone. Who am I kidding ... it's not easy for me, either, sometimes.

I sent him a Christmas card, and he e-mailed me. What he's up to, etc. He said something odd in there about not going to church any more, so he has time for other things. I thought, 'Hm.' I wondered how this guy, with whom I sat through a year and a half of (admittedly bad, military-sponsored) church services and sermons, felt about God. I can't believe I don't know, off-hand. I wonder if I ever asked while I was there.
So I asked him. He gave me back this long, ridiculous reply -- not ridiculous in what he believed -- well, somewhat. You know, if you need a placebo, blah blah, but there's no heaven, so make it count now ... and some logical holes therein. It was just begging to be questioned. (trust me -- I know this guy.) So we debated it a bit, back and forth. He asked me stuff like, why can't I accept what he believes? Well, as a Christian, I guess by definition I don't, but I'm not trying to change him, as he claimed. I said I wasn't shocked by what he said, just a little sad. And I told him why. And as I did this, I wondered, as the devil's advocate side of me listened to my replies: Why is it so hard to say what I believe, without sounding judgmental or superior? Because I didn't WANT to. I feel very humble about this. I don't feel I did anything to earn the salvation I have.
Then he started making some more cracks about stuff ... Hah! I talk about peace, while I work for the Department of Defense! (not entirely true) and asking why I was defensive, when I was just trying to match the tone in which he chose to conduct the conversation (sometimes I HATE e-mail) ... and taking things that I said totally the wrong way, and when I tried to explain them, mocking me. ("if it took you that long to explain it, you must feel defensive about it!") Argh.

I'm not writing about this to make the point that it was so unusual. I'm sure many of you have conversations like this all the time. I guess this time was different, because I just got sick of it. So finally, I called him on it, somewhat. He said he guessed he'd won because he hadn't had to use words like arrogant, when I had used that word to describe an attitude, not him. So I said, fine. You win. Go to Burger King and pick up your paper crown and wear it proudly. Because, really, I wasn't competing. I was just trying to talk to an old friend. But that is proving to be impossible.

I am not good at these discussions. I guess perhaps I need to get better at judging with whom they should be had. Who's ready and willing to discuss personal, spiritual stuff like that. I don't want to change someone's belief. Well, not in a forceful way. But if they're ready to hear what I believe and why, I want to do the same for them, and pray like heck that God is, or makes himself, present in their lives.

However. Probably to end a conversation so rudely isn't going to have that effect. And so I am left to wonder: Why am I seemingly ruder and more abrupt than I used to be? Do I care less? In some ways, yes. I've been through some stuff -- motherhood, for one, and the way it happened for me, for another thing -- that leaves me with little time for people who want to play games. I don't care what people think in terms of whether they like me, or even whether I like them, sometimes, if they are being ridiculous. But is that the right way to be? Have I taken a step forward, or backward? Because caring too much -- as I believe I did for most of my adult life -- definitely has its downside.

Maybe it's the pendulum swinging. Maybe I'll come back toward the middle one of these days. Maybe that no-nonsense attitude will be better seasoned with grace and compassion.
I hope so.