This song is playing about your love being right on time. I want to believe it. I’ve been walking this valley for years. I’ve blamed myself for coming out of fear because I know no else. It’s easy to walk a path familiar.
I don’t want to believe that’s who you are. The one who tries to scare me into love. That’s trippy. The one always angry or sad. Ready to condemn for doing nothing. Being still.
But you are patient and kind. You had to have known that as soon as I read something she wrote in the group, I’d want to talk to her. It was Facebook messenger for months. And then texting. And now Voxer. 15 mins never seems enough. I didn’t really know I could talk that long. Or laugh so hard and feel she is sitting by my side. Or find myself crying and trying to hold it, but feeling safe.
I didn’t know how being vulnerable and needing a friend would make this valley bearable. To know she is a Vox or text away even with the distance and time difference is your grace to me. To be able to pray for her and listen and share, it is your presence coming to meet us. It is a reminder you see. You hear. You care about us so intimately.
I’ve told her quite a few times how I feel your peace when talking to her. And now about seeing her. It is the exact same thing I felt last year about meeting Trisha. Remember I was all, I have to go to Texas! I have to! This makes no sense. Ugh. I have to! That was in March of last year. And then in November, you moved. And then the invite back. And then the waiting for the conference. For 10 months. Fun times.
But there was a growing with our friendship before that. A lot of grief. Death of my grandma. Moving. Coming back. Me trying to prove myself as a writer. Me trying to hold myself together. And her sharing the joys and struggles of homeschooling. And lots of other things. But if not for her, I would never know launching books and I wouldn’t know Kallayah. How intentional are you?
I wasn’t expecting friendships to born this way. Through my writing. Through my lamenting to you. Because come on, there’s been a lot of; JESUS WHERE ARE YOU? Seriously are you there? This is terrifying. And it hurts. Oh how it hurts. The desperation alone must ache your heart.
But I’ll wait as long as you’d like to see Kallayah. I mean it would be extra delightful this year. Seriously we could (can) eat chocolate and laugh a ton and probably cry some, but it will be so worth it. Just as it has with Trisha. The waiting and peace may drive me nuts and make no sense to my heart, but you really know how to build friendship. A better word would be weave. Because we are on basically opposite sides of the U.S. but our hearts aren’t. It’s as if you’ve bound us up. Not in a way that makes us struggle but unite. We belong to each other. You say that in your Word too. We hurt for each other and are learning how to rejoice even when we can’t see where we are going.
But we are for each other. We are holding each other up. Broken. Lost. Confused. But loved by you. Our father.
I can’t thank you enough for the gift of vulnerability. It scares me more than you know. Actually you do. But every time Kallayah tells me thank you for opening up, I smile a little. I smile because healing enters in. A piece of the wall is falling down. I’m feeling more at home. More myself. Not just the girl lost in sorrow.
There’s more I want to tell you, but I hope you know I love you and you are wonderful (yes, Sara Groves song. So catchy.)
Now, I’m going to listen all the waiting Voxes. And laugh. Maybe grab some chocolate. Maybe. I know I’m treading on crazy with how much chocolate I want to eat this week. You love me still.
Ps. Thank you for reminding how deep your love is for me right now. Please don’t stop singing or showing me.
Day 1 of Letters From A Tender Haired Girl.