Saturday, September 19, 2015

One Good Friend

Often times lately I feel sorry for myself. "Woe is me," I say.

Today I was feeling especially woeful. My sister and her husband made the yearly late fall trek to Girdwood, Alaska. My husband and I have been going with them for the last three years and we have such a grand time...no kids, just adult time with two of the best people in the world. We were invited to go with them again, but getting tickets back to Alaska at the last minute and juggling what to do with our children proved too much at this time. They left for Girdwood last night and today she sent me a beautiful photo of the two of them at the top of the mountain surrounded by snow and bright blue sky and they looked so lovely. I love and miss them so much. I cried. Woe is me.

We all do that sometimes...right? We take turns feeling sorry for ourselves. A little indulgence into the passion of self pity. We allow it from time to time, some allow it to take a firm hold for a long time, sometimes a lifetime... some can combat it entirely. I fall to this temptation too often. Woe is me.

I was making a list in my head of all of the things that I have lost (misplaced?) during the move...not people that I have lost. Things. My tennis shoes, my shirt that I really like, an old comforter that my son likes, my fall boots, my garden clogs. Wracking my brain, I don't know where they went. Woe is me.

Then a car pulls into my driveway. Up walks my new friend that I met after moving here. She is a good soul, kind, loving, non-judgmental, giving. She has lost so much. Not just things but also many people. She has endured much suffering, she still goes through such suffering. My problems are nothing compared to hers. When I saw her I knew that she would see my pain and ask if I was ok. She would care enough to ask and I would probably cry when she did.

I tried to stay strong, to put on a good face. I failed. She asked. I cried. She hugged me. I felt so silly but she comforted me and told me how hard it must be to be in my shoes. She cared, really cared, and loved me.

Thank you, God, for this friend. How many people have a friend such as this? Someone who has suffered beyond anything I could ever imagine. Thank you for my tiny cross that I bear and for helping me to see how small it is. Thank you for loving me so much that you sent this woman that I did not know three months ago into my life exactly when I needed her and when she needed me. What a loving Father you are, how much you love us is unmeasurable and overwhelming.

Ahhh, what lovely people. Miss you guys.