I have started this post a dozen times and have rewritten and edited and then just sat and pondered. It went from one thing to something completely different. Serious things, the things that aren’t things and that matter the most to me, they are so hard to write about. That deserves more pondering and staring into space, but will have to wait now so I can hit publish.
As I was planning my post about Puck’s birthday, I retraced his life back to his birth, and then from there, his birth country. A natural sequence. All from the viewpoint of my blog at it’s beginning and the photos taken then. This led to a huge bunny trail of reminiscence that eventually brought me to a friend’s blog who lived in Korea at the same time that we did. Teresa, along with our other American friend, Lis, were critical to our life as it was there in that foreign country. Critical as in essential, crucial, vital and seriously important. These ladies were our kids surrogate aunts, our confidants, our sisters, our sounding board. Our time there was short, just 18 months, but our deep friendship could have only come from God. They bond we formed was one that can take years to develop when lives are “normal” and easy, but it didn’t. It was quick and seamless and necessary. That’s the difference. When faced with the same ol’ from day to day of life that is America we are lulled into a sense that each day will come to us because that’s the way it should be. It’s a given, an expectation. The grocery store will still stock shredded cheese and I will always be able to communicate with my neighbor or the postman. My doctor will always understand my fears, my own speech will not be met with a quizzical gaze because of an unknown word or phrase. I don’t have a need for people to really talk to, who can know me at a core-level, who can ask me how I am and get an honest, not so pretty answer. I don’t need that.
Of course not! That’s not the way we were created, it’s not what we were created for! We were created to be with people, to really be with them. To have friends, to be a friend. To ask the hard, deep questions. To have the shoulder to cry on and also shed tears in the process.
So I’m am thankful for my friends I grew up with. Thankful for my best friend that has hung with me even through my infrequent communication. Thankful for my deep friendships in that foreign country that brought my littlest into the world and my husband and I closer than we had ever been. Thankful for my friends in Iowa and New York, without whom I’m sure I would not have survived as gracefully. Thankful for my friends here in the mountains, who continue to support and love and advise and root for us.