Matilda. James. Beatrice. Happy.

All best friend names.  All special gifts of my Compassion children. 

Recent letters from several of my children focused on who are their friends and why they are friends.

IMG_0623

I enjoyed learning the names of their friends. (Mental note: another conversation starting point for me when I write back.)  I also loved their honesty to the question of why this particular person is their best friend: they run with me, they are with me when I am in trouble, we have fun together, they love me.

Isn’t that great?! Don’t we want our friends to fit that description (except maybe the running part)? Don’t we want friends that love us, have fun with us and are with us when we are in trouble? It gives me great joy to know my children have friends like this. I know they are not alone on their walk of life.

Maybe they fetch water together, maybe they sit beside one another at their Compassion Center, maybe they share their hopes, dreams and fears. Maybe they found enough plastic bags to roll into a homemade soccer ball.  Maybe they like to be silly and just giggle together. Maybe they found a stick that makes a great baseball bat. Whatever they do, they do it together. That is a friend and that is a special gift. They give love and Matilda, James, Beatrice, and Happy give love back.

How many slams in an old screen door? Depends how loud you shut it.

How many slices in a bread? Depends how thin you cut it.

How much good inside a day? Depends how good you live ’em.

How much love inside a friend? Depends how much you give ’em.

Shel Silverstein