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Whenever I hear an interesting string of words, I pull out my journal and take notes just like a detective.  This morning my friend Joni found words on the foil seal of a carton of Daisy Sour Cream  —  “The most precious thing one can make is a friend.” — and she thought I might like to record them, as I’ve done with other words off and on all weekend.

Twice yesterday I pulled my journal out; once while touring a thoroughbred horse farm and again when touring the Woodford Reserve Bourbon Distillery.   When the tour guide at the horse farm spoke of  how dangerous it can be when a horse becomes spooked at the starting gate, I wrote down her phrase ”one thousand pounds of freaking.’  And later, after driving back to Joni’s from touring the distillery, my friend Donna used this expression — “as serious as a heart attack” — about whatever she was talking about.  Perhaps it’s a fairly common expression to some.  But to my ears, it was uncommon and worth notation.

But this morning, I was not moved to write down the Daisy lid saying because I found it troubling.   On the heels of a wonderful weekend with my four gal pals, the words ‘make’ and ‘friend’ just didn’t seem to belong together.  These words were not friends.  At the same time, I am untroubled by using the word ‘make’ in connection with either bourbon whiskey or thoroughbred race horses.  I’ve learned that the making of race horses and bourbon whiskey requires time and passion and even a bit of science in the following of defined and results-proven processes, in addition to having good genes and good ingredients.

As I think about these four friends of mine and how different we are, I marvel that we should even be friends.  We did not choose one another out of desire or will.  Instead, our friendship seems so happenstance.  And this happenstance nature makes me question whether friends like us can truly be made.  And if not, are they instead begotten by God?

It will take more time to sort out my thoughts before I’m able to draw a conclusion.