Yesterday

Yesterday I spent most of the afternoon trying, once again, to clear out the clutter. I started up in my room which never gets any attention. After the quarterly dusting (isn't that disgusting?) and the purging of the dresser drawers, I found myself pouring through my box of old letters and mementos. A few thoughts struck me as I reminisced about old friends amidst the notes and cards mostly from Husband and One.

The Lord has blessed me with some good friends, and some important friendships over the years. Memorable amongst them was my very Best Friend in 10th and 11th grade. She was involved in the performing arts like me, and we had juvenille fun together. There were the times when our fun was irresponsible at best, but mostly we just laughed. I remember she had a light blue Nova with carburetor trouble that we remedied by jumping out of the car at every stop, popping the hood, and sticking the machinery with a pair of chop sticks. Oh yeah! All this was done on the way to one of our jazz ensemble concerts so that we had on our black, drop-waist glittery mini gowns with heels. (Were there other cars on the road? I don't know. Generally speaking, everyone else became invisible when we were having fun.)

Later, she and her mother would be the ones who saw me through my darkest day. So lost was I that I have almost no conscious remembrance of their help.

We were estranged 15 years ago because I knew the real story behind a collegue's interest in her, and told her so. We came back together after she had her first child -- out of wedlock, by someone else entirely. I fell out of favor again when, as a new Christian speaking to a not-so-orthodox Jew, I rebuked her for testifying before her State's Legislature about the benefits of condoms, using her then-seven year old as a cautionary tale.

Somewhere in between, though, she was a wise sounding board as I tried to work through the hurt of a lonely childhood. And when I had my first baby and suffered my parent's disapproval over the decisions we would make for her, it was Best Friend who first pointed out that parents feel rejected when we make different choices than was their way.

Today, Best Friend and I haven't been in contact for at least 7 years. She doesn't want to hear from me, and I don't blame her. I exercised no grace; it was too early in my walk for the Lord to have started that construction on my personality. I look her up on a "google" search sometimes and have seen the latest pictures on Classmates.com. We've both grown up to enjoy faithful husbands, children we delight in and a passion for our convictions -- and we couldn't be more different.

Other notes I came across were from the Mormon friend who walked every step of my first pregnancy with me -- she delivered her son just 4 days before I gave birth to my daughter. She's an artist and she's full of life (if not Life)! She's cute and fun and vibrant. We stay in touch with occasional pictures and Christmas updates.

Then there is the family in California that became our fast friends early in our walk with the Lord. They are military, and when they were stationed in France in 1998, we took their poor, old tired dog for them. We thought of it as a sort of a hospice, but he lived long enough to welcome them back 4 years later! Our friendship is so much based on the goodness of God, that we can be out of touch for months or years, and pick it up right where we left off when next we see eachother. This is to their credit -- they are just that friendly. I'd like to be that friendly.

Other letters that I've saved over the years came from the cousins and Aunts who so warmly received us into their fellowship before, and certainly after we came to a saving knowledge of Christ. Two of my cousins are faithful writers -- they get that from their mother who, despite having 9 children, and nearing 40 grandchildren of her own, never misses an opportunity to send me and mine a birthday greeting. Her hospitality is a plumbline for me that I'm still trying to measure up against. I've not yet begun, really.

Some of the letters are from my sister. They reveal a more tender-hearted young woman than I have remembered. I'm glad I kept them.

Other correspondences are from my mother. Some are not very complimentary to her, but are important in understanding why our relationship is the way it is. Others are very sweet, and display a mother's love -- the best she knows how with what she was given. (Or maybe that would be better stated, "with what she was able to receive.")

And after spending hours reviewing all these notes toward keeping some and tossing some, one thought kept rising to the top like the fat you ladel away from beef broth: I do not remember being near as faithful, kind and thoughtful to these people as they clearly have been to me over the years. They have continued to be a friend to one who so plainly takes them for granted.

So, this week I resolve to put pen to paper and scribble a note to each one the Lord brings to mind. I will tell them what's new 'round here, and I will finish each note the way my dear, departed grandfather used to -- through a humble smile and purposeful eye contact, he would say, "Sure appreciate you. Sure do appreciate you." Isn't that a nice thing to say?