Have you ever yelled that from the top of a cliff or hill to have it echoed back to you? As kids we tested the echo factor of the sand pit by our house. Since The Pit was horseshoe shaped we never heard our words bounce back. (More HERE on The Pit) as a childhood vacation to the Grand Canyon I remember shouting through the chain link fence at a look out point. The summer I worked in Yellowstone National Park we would often give a shout at the highest peak on our 2 and 3 day hikes. Sometimes I wonder if anyone hears what I say on this blog or if my words are just bouncing back to me.
Which brings me to the echo chamber we can often surround ourselves with. Don’t get me wrong: I love to be in a crowd where we all voted for the same president. However, I have a collection of friends that on the surface would indicate I probably would not fit in. Our original source of connection was fitness classes. Now, we often text as a group to check in with each other as well as meet up when it works. This is a company of women I have come to cherish.
Here’s the thing: we don’t have the same religious or political beliefs. Our choice for TV programming varies widely. Outside of fitness our other common denominator might be that we have all been married over 25 years. We don’t choose the same foods: one hates Mexican style, a couple don’t eat meat. Well, except one veggie girl eats bacon. And is Jewish. You might ponder that later. As a side note I really like bacon.
So why does the friendship work? We respect each other. There is value in being different. It has to do with us absorbing what we hear, and not just bouncing back answers in agreement. Love of Jesus doesn’t over shadow a lack of believe in God. Meditation is accepted as prayer. There is value knowing that a contrary opinion might be spoken.
A broader perspective can be gained when we listen to others who think differently. That’s a good thing, right?
And back to the bacon, it can be just as controversial as Trump. Nitrites, no nitrates. Cured, uncured. Turkey or pork? And, can we really call pressed turkey meat bacon?