Prayer #124: Friended

In four days, my roommate Sus is moving out. And when I say out, I mean OUT. As in far away, long-distance, cross-country. As in different time zones and phone calls scheduled around her new MBA class schedule. As in, dial Julia into panic mode because where will she ever find another roomie who gives words of affirmation AND eats vegetables AND alphabetizes her spice rack??

Only one year has passed since we helped Sus move in, but in that time we endured enough quarter-life crises to equal at least three mid-life crises and a stint at a seaside sanitarium.

I'm proud to report that we have slightly more intact ideas of where we want our lives to head. I'm prouder to report that our friendship stayed intact. In fact, the pajama chats, hallway hugs, and shared loved of planning may be precisely what kept our hearts and sanity intact as well.

I will send my friend off with a rooftop soiree, like so many we've shared over this transformational year. She will make a terrific student and an even better nonprofit leader when she emerges. In the meantime, I'll take advantage of her new couch and finally see the Grand Canyon. I won't worry about her (much). I will definitely miss her.

Sus -- snow days, swimming, and haircuts will not be the same without you. Thank you for being my wonderful friend.

Look Sus! Some snow for you to take with you.

Prayer #124: Friended

You may know me through and through, Lord, but You're not the one who picks up the phone or mails a card or knocks on the door to remind me of who I am.

That role is reserved for my friends, Your terra firma ambassadors, who challenge and reward me -- sometimes in the same moment. So for them, I ask:

Turn more water into wine so we can linger over it together.

Grant us stamina for long conversations and patience for radio silence.

Keep us secure, but not safe; a little dangerous thinking with partners in crime keeps the world on its toes.

And thank you for putting people in my life whose wrinkles I can imagine but will never notice, because I know they will grow old with me.