The constant comings and goings in Chiang Mai give one opportunity for reflective pause on how one says 'hello' and 'goodbye.' You may have already read my post on goodbyes, this is the post where I explain how I am similar to a vegetable. Stick with me here...
My boss has heard a theory that if you try a food 6 times in a short stretch of time you will come to love it. I've often mused that I am an acquired taste. In new or unfamiliar surroundings I don't usually give the best impression. Usually I say something snarky (not cute snarky, just inappropriate snarky), or offensive, or just rude. In my head I want to be warm, inviting, and put the other person at ease, but the nasty monster of anxiety keeps rearing its ugly head.
Probably 90% of people don't like okra. But to the other 10% it's either naturally delightful or at least it grows on them. The friends who stick it out with me through the awkward, gangely stage (which in Thailand lasted until about 3 months ago) end up being enduring, loyal, and true friends.
Michelle* naturally loves okra and frequently cooks it. She's pretty naturally full of love for everyone. Becca* and Deb* get into stitches over my stories, despite my narrow and biased knowledge of Greenland*. Mary*, who is about the most honest and sweet person I know, will patiently hear me out on any subject. Jessie* lets me sit and talk for hours and shows a supportiveness for my hobbies that rivals my mom's.
These and many others. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful friends; people who not only support me but allow me to support them; people who push me to strive for Truth and Virtue above anything else, and certainly above myself.
Want some?
*All names of people and countries have been changed to protect the identity of those involved. They might love okra, but they probably wouldn't be thrilled if okra posted a million pictures of Julius the Monkey on Facebook and then tagged them. This blog post is kind of like that.
