Tuesday, March 2, 2010

No Difference

Paula commented on a recent blog post. "You know ... I said to my husband over the weekend ... isn't it weird how the world now works. I was talking about your comment on my blog ... I had been for my latest appointment and you asked about my proposed surgery. I said to my husband isn't it amazing - I don't know you - you live on another continent - but you have read my blog and have been thinking and asking after me. That we have struck up this wonderful mutual interest/friendship."

It is interesting how that works. We walk into each other's lives, so to speak. We celebrate the new babies, and declining tumor markers. We begin to recognize people from places we've never been. We call them by name, even. I know the names of dogs in Wasilla Alaska. A cat from Australia.

Still, this morning, blowing my nose over and over, coughing, reading my e-mails, still the news shocked me to the very core. My cup of coffee was halfway to my mouth when I read the news that one of my friends was now a widow, and that from halfway around the world, her thoughts were to explain her sudden absence from this world of the internet to a handful of friends she was close to. I gasped, "Oh my GOD!" and I wept. And no one can tell me, not for a minute that my online friendships are any different at all from the friends that I see and speak with regularly. It's no different. Truly. It is not. And in the dark of my living room, I could only pray that I was as 'real' to her as she is to me, because I wanted her to feel how very sorry I was. I wanted her to feel my hug.


Donna. W said...

I've been there more than once. I've also watched several blogging friends tell about their battles with cancer and then silently fade into the great beyond. It's real, Debby. It's real.

Kelly said...

Yes, it IS real. Which is why when I say to you (or others) that I'm praying for you, I really am. It's not just something I say to be saying.

I'm sorry for your friend. And I'll say a prayer for her.

WhiteStone said...

It's a good thing to reach out to others...even over the internet. Think about it this way...a generation ago it would have been penpals. Now it is blog friends. Same appreciation for friends.
Bless you, Debby. And your friend, as well.

Laura Jane said...

You're quite right, it IS a real friendship. Many is the time I have wandered about with my mind on an online friend's problems, sending them good vibes.

I visit with my friends every day. Its a great world, suddenly smaller.

My sympathies to your friend

Cheryl said...

Thoughts, prayers and love coming to you Debby. Today I give thanks for my online friends and the love that comes with each and every friendship xo

Karen said...

SO true. Sometimes, actually quite often, I'll think about a friend's problem while I'm out doing my mundane tasks. I'll be wondering how they're getting through a rough spot, how they're coping at that particular moment, or the joy that they're feeling at any given time. And then I think that I've never even met them - I've only communicated with them via the keys on my computer - and I realize (again) that God has made us to be there for others, just like He's always there for us.

Sorry about your friend, Debby.

Bill of Wasilla said...

I'm very sorry about your friend and her great loss.

You are a person of compassion Debby, and I am glad to have you as a friend even though I have never laid eyes on you.

It pleases me that you know dogs from my hometown by name.

BB said...

Oh Debby - we cried together then. For a man we never knew and for a woman we have yet to physically touch. I shall send her this link so she knows - the power of people reaches through wireless signals around the world.
♥ BB

Jayne said...

I was having a cry with you, Debby, and my family were equally shocked at the news.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for all your kind thoughts, you sweet woman.
I am home again now and life is a bit too real without him here, but just knowing that people care about us from both near and far means more than I can say.