We met four years ago. On an afternoon when I had just locked my 6 month old baby girl inside our Lincoln Park apartment. And I’m pretty sure I lied to her face about why I was so late to my first infant massage class where we met. I was certain she would think I was nuts if I told her the truth. I was right. But she loves me for it now. And for my life, this is the perfect kind of friend.
My name changed from the Girl on Bissell to Kim and we met at parks with the kids. We celebrated birthdays. We celebrated kids birthdays. We laughed at the antics we’ve gotten ourselves into – ones she blames on me but I know the truth. We’ve showed up to the airport to pick up Ben wearing matching Chick-Fil-A shirts. Pushed our BOBs through many feet of snow just to get out of the house in the dead of winter. Met for impromptu dinners to escape our lives for a moment. Watched other moms who had it together when we clearly didn’t. Shared dinners while our husbands traveled. Watched our kids turn into little people. Cried over what we would have wanted them to be. Laughed over what they’ve become. We’ve done life together. When it’s been pretty. When it’s been messy.
We’re so much the same. And yet we’re so different. She doesn’t like too much attention on her. I would have loved to be an act at a circus, although not sure what the act would be. She can get easily embarrassed. I’m not even sure what that would look like. She’s an early to bed, early to rise. I’m a late nighter and forced to be an early riser.
We both speak our minds. Our opinions. Our passions. We love shopping. Love fashion. Love a good deal. The latter three are why our husbands discourage our spending too much time together…
But she’s braver than I am. A different kind of brave I’ve never known. A mature brave. One that raises a special needs child with relentless patience, unconditional love, steadfast perseverance. One that challenges doctors in their beliefs. One that ignores judgments. A kind that redefines what “typical” is without apology. And she’s braver than even she knows. That’s what makes her so disarming. So authentic. So charming. She walks through life in a way I know I’ll never fully understand. And yet so desperately want to. I’m sure she doesn’t know I felt the closest to understanding when sitting next to her at church. Knowing the depravity that exists in all of us and the mercy extended to us.
She moves away in just 13 days. Out of state. And it’s this really great God is at work and in control kind of move. So it’s the right thing. The perfect thing really. And yet it’s not. It’s the worst, most horrible thing I can think of. For me.
I don’t understand it.
I don’t like it.
I don’t want it.
And yet that’s really what makes God so wonderfully powerful and present isn’t it. It’s in the moments of “this doesn’t make sense but I know it’s your plan,” that really challenges our faith. My faith.
I am a lucky girl surrounded by amazing women. But I’m going to miss this one. To the core miss her. Can’t imagine doing life without her. I’ve been living in this place of denial. I have to walk through this moment though too. The one I wish would go away. And it’s gonna be one snot running, mascara dripping, snorting moment.
But I’m so glad I still decided to show up late…and without being arrested.
