friends and nature tunnels

May in Glen Ellyn just might produce some of the loveliest daysI’ve yet to be a part of. There’s something about an old neighborhood. Thetrees, in all of their wisdom, gently lean toward the road in a way thatcreates shady, green, nature tunnels. Pockets of natural light poke througheach little crevasse and wind moves the branches at a slower speed, nodding toboth the weight and the age of each tree.

Glen Ellyn is home now, but the times Austin and I get tovisit Phoenix, we are greeted by some of the most familiar smells, sounds, andfaces. Often I feel like a member of the Rolling Stones on a reunion tour(minus the obvious rock concerts and drug usage). But in a whirlwind ofsqueezing my favorite people, eating my favorite foods, and soaking in themighty sunshine, I sometimes forget to slow long enough to breathe, converse,notice and sit in wonder.

On the last day of my trip two marvelously, beautifulfriends stopped by. We sat at what will most likely always be known as ‘theconference table’ and shared hearts, prompted hard questions, and listenedintently into the wee hours of the morning. I love conversations like thesebecause true friendship is born there. I love the parts of friendship thatdemand more honest answers than the ones you give to your dentist. I lovetears, in a weird, non-creepy way because frequently, they give insight intothe deepest soul-driven places that we don’t visit quite enough. I love thebelly laughs that only happen when friends have ventured long enough togetherthat polite laughs simply don’t cut it anymore. I love friends. Actually, Ilove my friends. I love them because the condition of their hearts would win ina beauty contest against what they see in the mirror. I love them because ofthe inside jokes, the awkward encounters, the full disclosure and commitment tobe better. But most of all, I love them for what they teach me.

On Saturday night, well, actually the very beginning ofSunday morning, after questioning and encouraging two of the best in my life,the tables were turned and they asked about me. And this is where the lessoncomes in.

Sometimes friendship is just as much about allowing othersto be there for you as it is being the friend that’s constantly there forothers.

I had prayed that day for God to encourage my soul, and Ifigured it would come when I went home. A few hours later, I found myself, soul-bared, tears cried, while two friends stood above me and prayed. I was wideopen, vulnerable, completely unguarded and it was the most free I have felt ina long time. I think I always would say I need friends, but in that moment,those friends were my life source, the pointers to hope, the bridge from emptyto fulfilled, and I am learning the power that comes from soul bearing of that kind.It’s how I feel truly known, and somehow, that truly known feeling may just bewhere peace puts up its residence.

God says in his word that he knows how many hairs are on my head. He knows when I rise and when I lie down. He knows my fears, he knit me together, and he thinks that I am his masterpiece. I crave the feeling of being fully and truly known because there is a God that knows me as his own. I long for freeing community because in his presence rests the pinnacle of communion. I desire to be a great friend because Christ alone is my advocate. Beyond cute clothes, funny stories, and common interests, my friends point me to the cross. They bear his image beautifully and reflect his love in ways that seem to beam straight from heaven. So to all you lovelies, and you know who you are, thank you for letting the most Kristin parts of me be enough.