There are friends, and then there are friends who are like family.
Friends who have walked life together with you through several seasons, friends who have seen your ups and downs, who know your kids, your spouse, your hopes and dreams, and even your fears and your disappointments. Friends who you've traveled with, "co-hosted" a young lady from Mexico with, shared your home with, and gone to church with. Friends who have mentored and counseled you without ever saying so.
Friends you can pick up with right where you left off as if no time or distance ever separated you. Friends who lift you up and fill you up in just the right way at just the right time.
I've grown a pretty nice circle of friends all around me here in Indiana over the last year, friends that I am deeply grateful to have in my life and am excited to grow with. But that whole part about being known takes time, and sometimes those are the types of friends that I really miss here in Indiana. Telling your story can only go so far in a new friendship and can never replace the people that lived the story with you.
Several years ago, God called one of my dearest friends (and neighbors) in Texas to move to Hawaii with her husband and the grandchildren they are raising. I had high hopes (still do) of traveling to Maui to see them, but financially that hasn't been a realistic dream for us just yet.
Who knew that a few years later, God would move me to Indiana, about two hours away from where she visits her dad in Kentucky every November. She followed my move, looked up my location, realized the proximity, and reached out to me. Now we started a new tradition to meet up halfway between my house and her dad's house the weekend after Thanksgiving. This last weekend we met up for the second year in a row.
What a treat and a true joy to be in the presence of such a dear friend, someone that really knows me, knows my kids, knows my story (stories). And I know hers', too. Almost 20 years of friendship built between us have formed a beautiful bond that I'll never take for granted.
Who knew that nearly 20 years after we met on that first mission trip (first of several trips) to Mexico that she'd be making a yearly trip from Hawaii to Kentucky and meeting up for breakfast at Cracker Barrel with me in Scottsburg, Indiana. All I can say is that breakfast filled me up just as much spiritually and emotionally as it did physically. So deeply grateful for such a friend.
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