Friendship

I live in a relatively small town where it's easy to get to know people, and that means I have a lot of friends.  I've been extra thankful for them over the last 6 months.  I have friends to call when my kids need rides (ballet/volleyball/basketball anyone?), when we're having a party, when I need a favor (extra tables for a recent garage sale), when I need a volunteer for a committee I'm chairing, or when I just want someone to come help me rearrange the furniture in my living room.  I consider myself truly blessed to be surrounded by women who are smart and loving and talented and funny and each bring a special gift to my life.   Importantly, they are part of my kids' lives too.

But I have a smaller, select group who are my go-to gals.  In times of crisis, they answer texts and calls at 2 am.  For real.  There may have been a time when I would have told you that my husband was my best friend and that I didn't have time, as a working mother raising and nurturing a marriage and 3 children, to nurture friendships as well.  But I would have been wrong, and I'm so glad that I took the time to build relationships with friends along the way --  because let me tell you that when your life takes an abrupt turn it's those girls who will have your back.  And I don't mean "Girls Night Out" friends who dress up and go to the wine bar on Tuesdays to talk about shoes and wine and gripe about their husbands.    I mean real friends - no gossip, no false personas.  Real.

We've shared pots and pots and pots of coffee (ok, and the occasional margaritas and red wine, too) over celebrations (children starting kindergarten, baptisms, running our first marathon) and stresses (delays of a years-long adoption process; parents' illnesses; a son's autism; children's struggles in school; illness; marriage crises).  I used to defend my extra tummy weight by thinking of all the lattes I'd shared commiserating and counseling over friends' problems.  (Just made me a better friend, right?)

But then life hit me hard this winter when my husband was diagnosed with a mental illness.  He slowly bottomed out, had a break down, and left me to handle a busy household and children and a business while he entered (long-overdue and much-needed) treatment.  Depression, left unchecked too long, can be devastating to both the sufferer and those who love him (more on that another time).

I will tell you that my faith is the root of what got me through. It gave me a foundation and a purpose and something to hold in lonely times.  But if God was my root, my friends were the blossoms on the plant.

They delivered groceries (I will never forget those bags delivered with grocery staples but also loaded with cherry turnovers, limeade, and Voortman's sugar wafers - in every flavor.)   They sent scripture to me by text and email that landed on my phone screen at JUST THE RIGHT MOMENT.  They built me up in times of doubt and uncertainty, reminding me who I am (and whose I am).   They prayed over me and for me.  They gave me just what I needed - a reminder of myself as myself - one of the girls.  They took me for lunches and dinners and coffees.  Early-morning runs when I just wanted to stay in bed.  My funniest friend stopped by and sat with me on the porch, telling funny stories and sharing neighborhood gossip ("you told me to just keep you laughing" she tells me).

I will tell my daughters - and actually my son, too - that friends are important in every stage of life.  Their wisdom, perspective, loyalty and their differences all are important in the fabric of my life.  We need them... for the celebrations, the difficulties, and just to share the ride.