I recently had a conversation with my friend Carmel. We were nursing our coffee and talking about kids, community projects, faith and exhaustion, when she said something about our needing to be our own best friend. I say "something" because whatever she said after that was lost to me. Her words had hit me like a ton of bricks; a light bulb went on, however you describe making a life-changing connection. I love a lot of people. But in our discussion, it hadn't occurred to me to think of myself. When that became evident, I felt the blood rush from my head; like I'd been caught red-handed for something awful. I didn't understand my reaction, until I considered what a best friend is and does.
When I've been someone's best friend, I've been very protective and supportive. It wouldn't occur to me to make light of their difficulties, or address them disparagingly _ but I do myself. I would advise them to stick up for themselves and not put up with shoddy behavior from others; tell them that they are precious, marvelous, wonderful and deserving of the best in the world _ but I don't say that to myself. I would stand by them and love them through their trials, seeming failures and lapses of good judgment _ but I berate myself, think less of myself; I'm not always there for me. Not like God is.
God is our best friend. At least, the God I know is.
Years ago, when I was struggling to find womankind reflected in the masculine deity I'd been trained to believe in, I saw a cartoon. It was of a preacher complaining to God on bended knee, beseeching heaven for assistance about the women in his church. In the fourth and final frame he gets his answer. A bolt of lightening comes from the sky and I read the sentence, "Just call me "Big Mama!" It changed my view of my creator; made God's love accessible to me in a way I'd never experienced before.
What I'd disconnected from and caught myself on, that morning with Carmel, was God's unconditional love. How can I love myself any less than my Creator does?
Reconnecting with that understanding in a meaningful way has turned my life around. I take better care of myself now, in all ways. And it's made me a better friend, too.
Sally Santa writes a religion column for The Sun, out of Bremerton, WA. Since January 2003 her column has been carried by Scripps Howard News Service, and can be read all over the country. Contact Sally at sally.santana@wavecable.com
