The pink spatula

My mom is always giving me kitchen gadgets and utensils for my birthdays and Christmas, or just because she’s visiting or because I mentioned seeing something I liked.  So for this past Christmas she gave me the funniest little spatula.  Pink.  I’m sort of earthy, we decorate with artifacts from the 1800s, we consider our style primitive.  This is a perky little tool that looks a little retro and also like a plaything.  Fascinating.  I had no idea how to incorporate it into my crock of wooden spoons.  I couldn’t just give it to Good Will simply because it was rubber and pink and not like the others. So I just left it in my drawer for a month or two.

Until one day I needed a utensil about that size really fast and I just grabbed it.  I usually use my utilitarian metal one with nondescript black rubber handle, but in my hurry, this one was closer.  And it was perfect!  Just right for the job.  Game changer!  And, just like that, I was converted and in love!  Since then it’s been my go-to, my favorite spatula whenever I’m scooping out chicken pot pie or cake or lasagna.

I’ve smiled to myself thinking how similar this is to one of my friends.  I’d say I am like my house decorations and kitchen implements: brownish, plain, basic, utilitarian, old-fashioned.  This girl is like a flamingo, peacock, and parrot mixed with a tank of saltwater fish: colorful, bright, exciting, girly, and decorated, just pretty much my opposite.

Like my pink spatula, I didn’t think we fit with each other the first time we met.  She was in an entirely different lane, league, universe, whatever, from me.  It was clear we had no common ground and that we were complete opposites.  Which is still mostly true.  Even as she’s become one of my dearest friends in the world.

Like my little spatula, I’d dismissed the idea of including her in my life or thinking I could fit in hers because I didn’t think we matched or could work together.  Both my little spatula and my friend are so feminine and cute; she is always dressed up and put-together.  I feel like a wooden spoon next to her.  But we overlook all the outside stuff (she knows I don’t care about clothes and makeup, and I know her favorite part of the day is getting ready) and just enjoy a great relationship.  She has been the perfect addition to my life and I depend on her regularly.

As I think about the blessing she’s become, I wonder how often we’ve relegated a new someone to the back drawer, deciding we’re not a good fit for each other based on a first impression.  And I wonder how much we’ve missed out on as we’ve made a hasty call or formed an opinion without giving someone a chance.

I found myself doing this same thing when another sweet friend gave me this precious set of measuring cups.  I couldn't bear to use them!  I kept them in their box protected with packaging, away.  I felt they were too good for everyday use; they didn't belong in my kitchen.  They were maybe to look at but too fragile and too pretty to be out with all my other cups.  Looking at it from this angle, I see that I've misjudged women who are too pretty, too accomplished, too good; I've assumed they wouldn't fit in my messy life, that they are to be admired but to held at arms' length.

I think I’ve done this my whole life.  I assume people are too different from me based on their hobbies and activities and strengths.  They’re musical or athletic or intellectual or artistic; I’m not. The really outgoing ones scare me.  I’m not sure what I’ll be able to talk about with any of them. I gravitate to those who like small group conversations, long walks, and books.

But the thing I’ve learned from getting to know this woman better is that when we make judgments like that, we are simply missing out.  Because she doesn’t like groups at all, hates being outside, and—given the choice—would never choose to read anything heavier than People.  But we can talk for hours, laughing and crying and hearing each other.  We talk about our pasts, our kids, our families, our worries, our embarrassments, our funny things, just life, as we sit on our couches and just spend afternoons together.

And maybe it doesn’t always work this way.  But maybe it does.  Because I honestly can’t think of a single woman I’ve gotten to know over the years that I don’t love.  Yes, sometimes I can’t believe we’ve become friends because we (and our lives) look so different from each other.  Granted, we don’t all become best friends, but I do think as we take the time to get to know each other, it’s inevitable that we grow to love each other.  I think of my women friends as sisters I love no matter what.

So maybe my spatula is a funny way to look at friendship.  But it just makes me think of my other pretty and pink friend who looks just as out of place in our house as this little spatula.  And how precious and beloved she’s become over the years; she has a place of prominence and value in my life, and I’m grateful we gave each other the chance and looked beyond our obvious differences.  Not only has she become one of my favorite go-tos, she sparks a little bit of joy in my heart every time I see her.  Definitely a keeper.  Just like my favorite little spatula.