Sometimes, friends are great. Okay, so friends are always
great. But sometimes friends are really great. Over the past couple of days
I’ve been in touch with some friends that I haven’t talked to for a while, and
it was so nice to catch up. It’s nice to hear their hopes, their fears, their
dreams, their shallow likes and dislikes. They help me to realize and redefine
mine.
Just yesterday I was sitting on a rock step, in a new skirt
that was a size I am ashamed to admit that I own and need—feeling grumpy and
negative about life, about myself—about everything; trying to figure out what I
want and where I’m going with my life. I
was on that stair, in the sunshine because an old friend was visiting from out
of town and when she asked “How do you like it here” and before I realized it
“I love it” slipped out of my mouth.
I amazed myself as I continued to expound how happy I am in
Washington D.C. I have wonderful friends here. I have wonderful roommates here.
I love the people I work with. I can tolerate the work that I do. I have a
calling that pretty much makes it my prerogative to say “HI!” to strangers at
church, which leads me to do the same thing outside of church. Just last week I
had the most fascinating conversation with a British man walking along Rock
Creek Parkway away from the Cherry Blossoms. He ended up being a political
reporter at the BBC, and was covering America’s reaction to Margaret Thatcher’s
death. I mean, COOL.
Yesterday, I got a phone call from a concerned Tara. “Hey,
sweetie. I just wanted to call and see
if you’re okay.” David called and recited a similar message. Amy texted me out
of nowhere for no particular reason. Josiah called and made a hilariously inappropriate
observation. Susan stayed up to chat
with me despite sleep calling, and Hannah talked to me in the middle of the
night. My brother returned my phone call, and when I didn’t pick up texted me
“Hey I had a few seconds, and I just wanted to tell you that I love you.” I mean c’mon.
You can’t really ask for a better younger brother than that.
I’ve recently been trying to figure out how the Lord
communicates with me, and while talking to Hannah last night I realized that
people are a powerful part of that.
Through the love and presence of people in my life, and the times that
they show up at just the right time, in just the right place, for not
particular reason—I feel God’s love. For the people who love me in the good
times and in the bed, when I’m a booger-snot, and when I’m happy—there is
divine guidance. Charity is the pure
love of Christ, and the first and second greatest commandments are love thy
Lord and Love thy neighbor.
Today, I am so grateful for the love of both. And so grateful that the Lord loves me enough
to show His love to me through my friends.
Sometimes, it seems like life is hard. Sometimes it seems
like life is always hard. Sometimes it seems like life will always be hard. But
the long and the short of it is for me, right now, is…. So? I’ve been sharing two quotes with pretty much
everybody and their dog lately, and so let’s see if I can get it out to a few
more everybodys.
“Pain
stayed so long, I said to him today,
“I will not have you with me any
more,”
I stamped my foot and said, “Be on
your way.”
And paused there, startled at the look he wore.
“I, who have been your friend,” he
said to me;
“I, who have been your teacher—all you know
Of understanding love, of sympathy
And patience I have taught you. Shall I go?”
~ Anonymous
I can’t say I’m grateful for pain, right now. I can’t say
I’ll be grateful for pain in the future. But I am grateful for the person that
pain, once recovered from—has made me. I’m grateful for the ability to feel
pain, and the happiness that fully experiencing that pain allows me to attain.
So while I’m not grateful for pain, I am grateful for what it does to me.
“There are many trails in life
which do not seem to come form unwisdom or folly; they are silver arrows shot
from the bow of God, and fixed inextricably in the quivering heart—they are
meant to be borne—they were not meant, like snow or water, to melt as soon as
they strike; but the moment an ill can be patiently born it is disarmed of its
poison, though not of its pain.”
~Henry
Ward Beecher
I kind of loathe writing serious blog posts, but I seem to want to write this one—So I’m going to end this one by telling you I
mean every word of what I said above. And
also tell you I’mma go put on a pretty dress, do my hair, put on makeup, and go
to a party.
Because that’s how I roll.
~Meggers
(SERIOUSLY. Somebody else I love and don't normally talk to just randomly texted me. So much freakin' love.)
