In times like these, everyone can use
A Cup of Comfort.
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A Cup of Comfort
A Cup of Comfort for
Friends
A Cup of Comfort for
Women
A Cup of Comfort for
Mothers & Daughters
A Cup of Comfort for
Inspiration
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Christmas
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Courage
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Teachers
The following story is excerpted from:
A Cup of Comfort for Friends
Stories that celebrate the special people in our lives
My Jar of Self-Esteem
Karen and I met when our first children were both eight months old. She was a new member of the church in which my husband was a pastor. We soon discovered that we had a number of things in common: a particular favorite shade of blue, a passion for obscure hymns, similarly designed wedding bands, and a mutual faith. Both creative, I expressed myself best through music and Karen through art.
As a pastor's wife, I'm usually friendly with the people who attend the churches that my husband serves, but I usually don't form deep friendships with them. Another pastor's wife had even advised me not to pursue close friendships with parishioners. However, when I met Karen, I knew immediately that she saw me beyond my role in the church and that I could trust her.
Our instant bond strengthened as our lives continued to run parallel with one another's. Although completely unplanned, Karen's three children were born within two weeks of mine. Our friendship grew with our families, forged on barfy pregnancies, colicky babies, and early childhood illnesses. Our husbands both worked long hours, and so our daily phone calls became our mutual lifeline, a connection to reality filled with laughter and reassurances to one another that we would live through whatever challenges life presented us.
Just before the birth of our third child, my husband was transferred to another city. It was difficult to say good-bye to Karen, but we knew our friendship would continue somehow. Neither of us could afford daily long-distance phone calls, so at Karen's suggestion, we did "one-ringers." Every afternoon when the kids were down for their naps, I would make myself a cup of tea, call Karen, let it ring once, and hang up. Karen would have tea ready at her end, dial my number, let it ring once, and hang up. That way, even though we couldn't talk, we could still enjoy our tea together.
About that time, my middle child decided that she was never going to sleep again . . . ever. I had a four-year-old who wanted to play all day, a nineteen-month-old who wanted to scream all night, and a baby who wanted to eat constantly. I dreamt about sleep the way starving people dream about food. Sleep deprivation eroded how I viewed the world and myself. I couldn't think clearly. I couldn't have reasoned myself out of a damp paper bag. The left side of my face twitched for two years.
Karen couldn't offer me sleep or a helping hand with my children, but she helped adjust my perspective and lift my spirits with two thoughtful gifts. The first came in the mail: a pretty flowered mug filled with my favorite tea. On the wrapper of each tea bag, she had written a different verse that I was to find in my Bible and read while we had our tea times together. My dear friend couldn't be there to talk with me across the table, but those verses of hope and encouragement spoke for her and meant even more to me than they'd meant before.
A few months later, when Karen's husband was in town on business, he brought me another package, a special gift he said Karen had been working on for a long time. It was a beautifully decorated ceramic quart container with a label in Karen's handwriting that read, "Sig's Jar of Self-Esteem. Use as necessary," with a prescription to apply whenever I doubted myself or felt lonely. The jar was packed with slips of fancy pale blue paper, rolled into capsule-sized scrolls, each containing a message just for me. There were dozens of them.
- God smiled at me when He sent me a special gift named Sig.
- I treasure your friendship.
- I'd love to live within 100 feet of your kitchen.
- You are raising kids that will be well-equipped for life.
- You have the gift of hospitality.
- I appreciate your consistency.
- You are the person I would most like to be stranded in a mall with, provided it had a daycare and a German coffee shop.
- I really believe you could do anything you wanted.
- You challenge me to be the best me. Thanks.
In beautiful calligraphy, each little blue "pill" reminded me that I was special, that I had gifts to offer, and that I was loved. I laughed and cried as I read the notes. The first night, I almost overdosed on them. The jar found its way to the kitchen, where I could reach for it just before my face started to twitch.
Fifteen years later, my jar of self-esteem still has a special place in my heart and in my kitchen. I don't use it as often as I used to; apparently the magical potion of friendship helped to rebuild my self-esteem. The twitching returns only when I don't get enough rest, which is quickly rectified by a dip into my jar of self-esteem.
I now work full time, so we no longer do the one-ringers, but we can now afford the occasional phone call. She and her family visited our home recently, and over steaming cups of tea we discussed, among many other things, the future. We called our teenaged children into the room and asked them to please promise us that, when Karen and I can no longer make decisions for ourselves, they will place us in the same nursing home. They agreed. It dawned on us afterward that we hadn't planned for our husbands, who are also friends, to join us. We decided that they could come, too.
—Sigrid Stark