loving well...caring a lot...and trusting Him most.

I have always been a bridge builder. No, I don’t mean literal bridges. I mean the kind where you lay down so people can walk on you, over you, across you - and ultimately get to someone else. THAT KIND of bridge. I’m the friend who gets bruised and broken again and again. And then, when I think I have given every last bit I have, when I think I literally don’t have one ounce or smidge left, I find just a little bit more. Truth telling, I don’t know how to not care. Even when I’m completely out of love, when I’m wrung dry - there is still 5% down deep in me somewhere. 

I can’t tell you how many friends have brutally wrecked my heart. They likely have no idea it happened; and I’m not saying it is entirely their fault either. Nothing ever is. I’ve never been one to walk away or let go easily. I don’t take the idea of “friends for a season” very well and I end up getting my heart broken. Since I was a little girl my dad has told me my capacity for love is my greatest gift and will always bring me pain. 

Last week one of my dearest friends lost her dad to cancer. Our friendship has been somewhat challenging throughout the past few years, and the past six months have been distanced to say the least. I chose me. I chose boundaries and even though I fully believe it was the healthier and better choice, in this moment it feels totally wrong. I told her in March when we ran into each other that I would be there for her when this moment came, and I meant in. A few weeks ago I knew the end was drawing closer and I sent flowers. I have been consistent in sending texts to remind her I was praying and that I cared - but I haven’t actually seen or had deep and meaningful conversation with her throughout much of this year. Only 20 minutes after her dad died, she told me. I suppose if you are family - that reality doesn’t just fade or disappear even if there is a season of distance. I walked into the celebration of life on Friday afternoon and her mom welcomed me warmly. She hugged me tightly and said, “I’m so glad my other daughter is here.” I was asked to sit in the front row alongside the immediate family and to attend the private meal following the public reception. It was my honor. 

I fell into my role as aunt shell with ease - I laughed alongside the kiddos and chased them around, making sure they were entertained and trying to keep them out of their parent’s hair at least for periods of time. But my heart aches as I looked at my friend. I longed to sit across from her and hear her heart - to know how she was really doing - and yet I also knew I wasn’t the one she would choose to share those stories with, and maybe I won’t be ever again. How do you love well and care well and give much when you’re also letting go? How to you protect yourself from falling apart when you’re invested but you’re also walking away? How do you hope for more and still say - grateful for now. 

Dear Lord, I entrust my dear friend to your care. I give you her heart and know You are at work in her life regardless of what I ever see or know of her days. Thank you for loving her infinitely more than I ever can…and loving me more than I understand as well. Thank you for holding my heart and promising to provide abundantly more than I need. Be strong and gentle and gracious as I seek your face, and wash over us both with Your love. Healing is forever in Your hands Jesus.