One minute we were
diving deep into the sea of discussion, the next moment we were laughing over
stitches in pockets and glass cacti in the desert. The authenticity I felt in that moment
reminded me of the unspoken commitment we had made the moment we met, many
years before. A promise to keep the
friendship real went without saying. She
was a sweet surprise that landed in my arms and took up residency in my
heart. She came in and out of my life in
the physical for a short season.
Sometimes it feels like the experience was not even real.
It was time to put
bodies to the background of all the phone calls made through out the
years. We were both in desperate need of
more then a voice. Both of us in
transitions and feeling the familiar pains of change took us to a place
somewhere in between. The desert, what
a great place to help hold space for transition; it had been over two years
since we had seen each other. When it
finally happened, it felt more like home then a hotel room.
I believe we walked
and talked our way through a marathon over the three days we were
together. A beautiful exchange of
stories went on in the heat of the desert.
A truth that told us both we were going to be alright as long as we
continued to press in to what appeared to be the uncomfortable part of our
story arc. The part of the story where
life forever changes and there is no going back, the part where life gets messy
and humanness feels prickly.
Embracing the arc of
our stories also meant trying knew experiences.
OK, that sounds like a good excuse to rent a Cherry Red Convertible
Mustang instead of a compact conservative gas saving car right. I mean, transition is hard, why not make the
most of it. We embraced this experience
like two little six year olds embracing cotton candy at the fair; we were fully
in, feeling spunky and free. This
particular day we were in search of the Phoenix Botanical Garden
I chuckled to myself
when we missed the turn, I had thought, “how hard could this be, we were
looking for a garden in a desert?” At
the same time, I had never been to a botanical garden, just saying the words
made me want to wash my hair, not take a hike.
We finally caught our tales and found our spot, pulled into a parking
spot and prepared for our journey. “We need to put the top up,” extenuating the word
top as I told my friend, because, she kept calling it the lid as if we were a
jar of pickles. After the lid went up, I asked if she would
pop the trunk, I wanted to leave my purse. Grabbing my money and phone to put in my back
pocket, I was surprise. My pockets appeared
to be like plastic fruit glued to the table of a model home, just for looks, or
I thought. That is when I found myself
bent over staring at my toes, my friend behind me preparing to use her car keys
as a knife, to do surgery on my pants.
You can only imagine what this must have looked like to those passing
by. As she released each stitch, I
prayed that she was right and that the pockets were just sewn shut. If not, I would look funny walking around with a huge
hole revealing my backside; at least there would be cloth to show for, thanks
to the seamstress/underwear coach, which is a whole other story.
I could feel her
unthreading the pockets’, stitch by stitch, she would pull and I would
giggle. Then it hit me, people walking
by would glance over their shoulders or look out of the side of their
eyes. We lost it as we realized the seen
we had made. Laughter and snot came out of her face as I
simply said “and that won’t attract attention.”
We both busted out in that deep gut wrenching laughter that does a body
good. Not only did we both get a much-needed gift of uncontrollable giggles, so
did those who crossed our path. On a
serious note, my pockets were real and my backside was safely covered. Oh, how I love to laugh.
Our time together
ended as quickly as it began and all of a sudden, I felt like a six year
getting ready to say goodbye to my childhood friend. Everything in me wanted to fight the feelings
that were welling up inside. I did not
want to let go, I wanted to lean in and hold on forever. I felt safe sharing space with my soul
sister. Yet, the adult in me knew the
time had come. We both needed to enter
back into our transitions, our story arc and continue to run the race set
before us. We had helped each other
through asking, listening, pausing and repeating. We had both chosen to dive deep, laugh hard
and share openly, which allowed us to enter back into our stories with
courage. We sat on the edges of our beds
knowing the time had arrived, we prayed together and promised each other we would be back next year, believing that God works out all things for good.
True friendship is
not about how much time you spend together,
but about the kind of time you spend when you are together. Thank
you my sister friend for traveling this road next to me. Until next year, be safe, be free, be you!
Cris
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