Growing up without friends was rough in ways some people don’t truly understand. But, after experiencing my third grade Valentine’s Day party when everyone was supposed to write out a valentine for everyone else’s box, I came up short. Except for two. One from my teacher and the other from a really tenderhearted girl Stevie. Mom picked me up that day and assured me that I had at least one friend–her.
I pleaded that she was my mom, not my friend. Oh the wisdom in an old soul eh? But she reiterated and I understood. We can’t please everyone, so why try to put on an act just for the sake of a little popularity? As long as she was happy with me, that’s all that mattered. And now God of course. Then shortly after, I found a friend outside of my bloodline. Spence was a genuinely humble man. He didn’t have much, he didn’t need much, and he didn’t expect much.
Though I’d been on-again-off-again friends with his granddaughter Jenelle, when I came to meet the man who instilled my love for the police scanner, a friend in him I surely had for life.
Spence was what you’d call a snowbird. He’d spend the Spring and Summer here in Western Colorado, and the other seasons he’d mosey back down to sunny Mexico in his RV. At times he joked that if he ever got too cold, his blood was so old it would freeze straight away and he’d just be some stiff old bastard like the Iceman. (his words not mine)
I spent many evenings learning new things from him. Though he may not have had a college education, the man was truly as smart as Albert Einstein or Alexander Graham Bell. What I can remember most of him was each time he’d come back through town with these cookies that resembled slices of watermelon. He said they were special cookies, though I later discovered our local grocery store had stocked them. Always a naive little bugger, I’d admit that for sure. Then the day came as I was walking home from a bus stop in my neighborhood. As I passed by their property, it was closed off with yellow police tape and flashing lights of cop cars shrouded the walls of each building surrounding. I just knew something bad happened to Spence and indeed, it did. My mother and I left for errands as soon as I got home, so she slowed down on our way out of the neighborhood and asked a policeman what happened. Though specifics weren’t provided, we gathered Spence had been killed. Indeed, he was. His estranged son-in-law who got out of prison had attacked him with a baseball bat in a drunken stupor.
I was heartbroken again. That meant I was back to having no friends. Besides mom. And God. Since then, I haven’t had but few friends at a time. I’ve found peace with this several years ago, and I continue to live in peace with just a few friends. Most of the time, I can swallow the bitter pill just fine. Other days, it requires some effort. Many years later, my mom introduced me to the old style hymn sung in many churches worldwide. It is Well with My Soul has to be the ultimate song about peace in its context of being a fruit of the Spirit.
Can you relate with the lyrics? (Song below sang by Hillsong)
Prayer:
Dear Heavenly Father, we come to you in this moment to give you our thankfulness for your master plan. We are gracious in the gift of peace you give us even when we aren’t searching for it. You know the way, lead us, show us, make this a peaceful week for all of your children. For in your High Name we pray, Amen!
The Heart Mechanic 