Overwhelmed, I am completely overwhelmed. I feel as if my heart is going to come flying out of my chest and my eyes keep welling up. News flash - this time it’s not bad! As I’ve said, I’m pretty emotional at the moment, so I will
probably definitely ramble. If you have a few minutes, if you don’t mind a long story, curl up on my couch, and even though it’s white, feel free to put your feet up and get cozy.
My birthday is in a few days. I wasn’t planning on telling you this, but now I am. And as I keep saying, the last four months have involved some very deep and painful blows that have torn out a few neighborhoods in the region of my heart. I’ve been in shock. Not really even knowing yet how to tackle rebuilding. So I’ve been embracing the brokenness by practicing Lent for the first time in my life; trying again to follow close in the dusty footprints of the One who was broken for me. This is only the first Sunday in Lent and I am shattered by joy.
Let me go back, way back. Growing up I longed for loyal girl friends but inexplicably, distressingly they were nowhere to be found. Then I began to develop coping mechanisms that pretty much guaranteed I would not choose healthy, reliable friends. At the tail end of high school and throughout college this all began to change. By the time I graduated I had amassed the most precious, faithful and diverse circle of women to love and be loved by. Most of those friends were just supposed to walk next to me for a part of the road before turning down their separate paths.
A few I still talk to once in a while, mainly via Facebook. One has forever attained sisterhood status. But one or two whose paths diverged from mine, just seemed to be missing. Those friendships didn’t feel seasonal; they were supposed to be life long. They rent holes in their leaving which the wind would occasionally whistle through, bestowing in its wake a toothache of the heart. I’d long for them, search Google, Facebook, IMDB, and then with failure settle back into ignoring the ache. Tonight, a part of my heart has mended, with the original fabric and everything.
I popped into my Gmail account to see if there were any new comments (I love comments) when I saw this message on my Fairy Toy Box Post.
The recipient of the Parrish dresser still owns and cherishes it. It will stay in my family for as long as it lives.
Stunned, I began to bawl. There is really no poetic way to describe it, I just bawled. And the depth of feeling took me almost as much by surprise as the message. It is as if this last month has left me with few emotional guards and delight is the twin of anguish.
I quickly look up her profile and see no email. So I post a comment back, vainly hoping that someday she may see it. In a flash there is a reply. The old camaraderie clicks back into place and I find that the affection has not waned on either side. Both hearts felt the chill wind screaming through a tear that is now becoming whole.