I have decided Facebook is the social equivalent to my parents' front porch when I was little. My reasons:
both are used at your convenience to pass leisure time pleasantly
a front porch is public to your neighbors, FB is public to friends.
when you are on the front porch, you can go back in when you get uncomfortable. On FB you can choose exactly how you present yourself, who sees the information, and even block people from whom you want privacy.
in both settings you get a general idea of what is going on with acquaintances but it is in rather a hit-or-miss fashion and requires no planning or special effort on your part.
you can wave or smile from your porch, or hit the like button on FB
you can talk if it suits you by waving someone up to your porch or patting the swing, or by leaving comments.
gossip is easy in either setting.
it is important to remember that although FB asks us to call many people we would just smile to if on our porch "friend" they are more of casual acquaintances.
most porches are friendly and relatively quiet places; but every neighborhood has someone who has ball games going too loud on his radio for children across the street to sleep, and occasionally loud fights start on the porch. At least there they tend to move inside, while on FB they tend to go on and on in comments. I prefer to save strong opinions for my blog, which to me, is more like my living room. When you enter my living room, I think you expect to be on my turf. Don't be surprised if I am opinionated here. :)
I have been remembering a song I heard a few times my sophomore year in college when my roommate would play it (hi Catherwood!). I don't really know why this song has returned to me after many years but I share it here:
Here are the lyrics if you'd rather read than listen, though the music is gentle and loving:
A friend of mine is going blind But through the dimness He sees so much better than me And how he cherishes each new thing that he sees They are locked in his head he will save them for when He's in darkness again
He can't read books And he can't paint pretty pictures But he understands so much clearer than I For he knows that all he's missing with his eyes Is more vivid in the mind of the man who's going blind And that's why he doesn't mind.
Won't you sing Tommy Davidson of Things that you have seen Sing of winter's bite and summer nights And places you have been Of dew drops and forget-me-nots and Silver silky sheen Lain across the morning meadow on the hillside
And this friend of mine, he plays guitar And he sings so much better than I He can sing you any pictures in your mind He will sketch them out in rhyme draw the details in the lines And he'll color it in time
And oh how he loves his guitar And it loves him And they play much sweeter than I As if to say that come the day that he can't see He will have at his command so much beauty in his hands That the loss won't come so hard
Won't you sing Tommy Davidson of Things that you have done Sing of silver seagulls sailing into evening's golden sun Sing of city streets and villages and people on the run Tell the people how you know it Tommy Davidson
In any case, I've been thinking about this song and Job and wondering why Job didn't have friends who loved him like this and were able to see at least a glimpse of what God was doing in his life. I have been blessed the last few years to watch several friends walk faithfully through cancer and all the Valley of the Shadow and suffering that entails, and come out with their faith intact, a beautiful walk. I once heard a sermon about Job and the pastor talked about the way Satan came to God and God said, "Have you considered my servant Job?," then went on to talk about perhaps sometimes God asks if Satan has considered others of His servants. If that still goes on, I may know some who Satan has been asked to consider -- and by God's grace, they have stood the test.
My dear online friend over at The Laundry Pile and I have a longstanding use of yellow as the Color of Hope.
So at lunch I heard a mailtruck rumbling up our gravel driveway. I left my plate of reheated spaghetti and met him and was glad to see a package. I was gladder to see Comfy Denim's (as I first knew her) return address. And when I opened it, Oh, my. What a lot of yellow goodness was crammed in that box. A box full of sunshine and hope. :) Thank you, thank you, thank you.
