here I raise my ebenezer
On top of needing to cry, passing strangers, and having to go to schoool: my sister also was not answering her phone. She's supposed to always be on hand when I need to tell her things.
When I left my apartment today, in my mailbox was a card, and the handwriting alone made me almost cry out. It hadn't changed at all. In eleven years the handwriting - my name - was exactly the same.
I was across the street and on my way as I opened the card, and began reading, as I walked, my first letter from Brenda since the ninth grade.
We were best friends in the eight grade. We were beloved friends. When I left my home at age twelve to live in East Dublin, GA, and work on a dairy farm, I met Brenda. She was the daughter of the pastor, and her farm was adjacent to where I stayed.
I wanted to find security, and community, and family, and the cogregation of agricultural, large-families was so comforting to me. They were so sincere; everything they did revolved around peacefulness and their loved ones. It satisfied my soul.
After I was there a few months my mother moved down - to give to my siblings the same sense of belonging that I had discovered. Our life was so simple and yet so rich.
But I was growing up, and coming onto fourteen years of age, and I was asking questions. My father moved in upon us, as well, and doubted the integrity of our cogregation. He wooed first my mother, and then we children, and moved us away. I have no doubt that I would have eventually decided naturally to leave that church - when I had left childhood - but even if I had not I know I would have been fine.
You know the story: mom married dad, we moved back to Atlanta, and less than four years later dad left again and I started college.
Brenda was torn between me and her father. Basically, my parents' decision was not condoned by the leaders of the church, since it involved our leaving, and we were for all practical purposes cut off from them.
Since Brenda and I were just on the cusp of adulthood we were confused about to what extent these decisions were our parents' business or our own. Eventually we sided with our parents - and called it our own.
But it broke my heart. I had no Brenda. Even now, with all the wonderful women I call my "best" friend, none of them could ever replace the memory of the love I had for my first.
OH my, I'm going to cry again. I want to. I can't. I have a meeting.
It's not fair, but eleven years later I think I might have my Brenda back. I'm so fortunate. I'm so thankful!
...in other news I don't have to fly home for Christmas because Nancy and Tylere will drive me home. YAY!!
I don't deserve the friends I have.
No. I don't.
But I love them.
All.
