Ode To My Friend

I love Grey’s Anatomy.  I’ve never missed a season.  The two central characters are best friends, Meredith and Christina.  Well, this weekend I watched the season finale where Christina leaves the show after all these years.  There’s a scene where the two of them say goodbye (they’re known for “dancing it out,” so they’re dancing out their goodbye which sounds goofy if you’ve never watched the show but was incredibly poignant).  And while I normally don’t cry during television shows, boy did I start crying.  I saw every single girlfriend throughout my life in that scene.

Recently, I’ve encountered some meanness.  I’m not sure why, but it’s made me realize that my old people pleasing ways still exist.  I thought I’d conquered that old foe, but I still want people to like me.  Aren’t we all like that?  Watching this precious scene between two old friends made me realize that the people that really matter like me.  In fact, the people that really matter love me.

I have been tremendously gifted in this life with an army of girlfriends.  If I stay focused on the overwhelming amount of camaraderie and love and support and mutual admiration and affection that I have on all sides and from throughout my years, then the folks who don’t know me and choose not to like me won’t matter.  They. Will. Not. Matter.  I have more than I need.  More than I could have ever asked or dreamed.

So for all of those women with whom I couldn’t do life without, this is for you:

I can still see you with your hand over my belly praying big prayers when I couldn’t believe anymore.

I can hear you knocking on my door moments after learning about a big break up and standing ready with ice cream, Kleenex, and bad movies.

I laugh at the pre-teen versions of ourselves laying out in your front yard listening to Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton while dreaming and exchanging secrets.

I remember late night calls as we planned our coordinating bedding for freshman dorm rooms complete with reversible peach and mint green comforters that was the height of décor at our local Wal-Mart.

I well up when I think about you taking on a late night prayer in the midst of a marriage struggle that I didn’t know how to work through on my own.

I flip through the pages and pages of pictures of us traveling every where from Las Vegas to Hawaii on the biggest and most fun adventures.

I can still taste the food you brought me in those weeks of bedrest and the weeks of confinement after the babies arrived.

I can hear your advice about what to do in my job and how to choose and what I should consider when moving forward or staying put.

I feel energized by those late nights sitting in our pajamas and sharing joys or jokes or struggles.

I know that I can do anything with my marriage because you stood there as I said I do and fixed my eye makeup before I walked down the aisle because the prayer made me cry.

I remember the bible studies you brought to my home because I couldn’t walk my junior year and I still have that t-shirt you made with puff paint for me to wear over my back brace.

I see the voicemail messages you left me every week the babies where in the ICU and I just couldn’t pick up the phone but you kept calling.

I feel our circle of three praying bold prayers and believing that miracles still could happen.

I remember trying on wedding dresses when we were wildly single and making up a silly story for the sales girl.

I laugh at our fashion over the years as we compared notes about what to wear and you let me test drive make overs on you.

I still have clothes from our shopping and tickets from our plane trips and stubs from the shows we saw.

You were there to toast my graduations, bar passages, marriages, children, and birthdays.

You were there to laugh and cry and talk and share and encourage and dream and build and believe.

You were there through the divorce, the inability to walk, the break ups, the fights, the attacks, the moves, the infertility, the heartbreak and dreams dashed.

You have been my favorite memories and best times.

I couldn’t have gotten here without you.

Thank you, friend.

I will always have your back.