Women amaze me.
We wield mysterious superpowers often overlooked, dismissed or undervalued amidst a culture where proud is loud and success is too often measured only in dollars–
We nurse an infant while potty training a toddler while supper is on the stove and the fourth load of laundry is spinning…
We leave a long day at work to deliver a meal to a friend who just lost her father, then meet another for coffee to listen to her tale of loss, before heading home to work on the fundraiser we’re volunteering for…
With a song from our lips we soothe young savage beasts, with a single raised eyebrow we calm brotherly storms, with a kiss we halt torrents of tears, with a finger’s touch we assure, stir desire, make peace.
Women love a thousand different ways.
Powerful and super, sure, but oh so much more!
I’ve already alluded to an amazing way the wonder of a woman is revealed–how time, distance and geography can’t sever heart connection, relationship, the affection of friends. In RobinWorld, that’s a superpower.
But don’t we too often take it all for granted? Not even consider how special our connections are to one another? Fail to marvel at how well our hearts remember what our minds temporarily forget?
The heart’s muscle-memory is astonishing.
It happened to me on Sunday.
We were visiting a new church where we knew no one, a very large church, one I had heard a high school friend of mine might also attend. Actually, Thayer was two grades ahead of me, the older sister of one of my best friends. We weren’t close by any means, but I had spent many a night in their home and I looked up to her.
The fact that we were now living in the same town, several hours from our hometown, was reason enough for me to seek her out.
This was our third visit to the big, new church. Every visit, I kept my eyes peeled for someone who looked like my friend’s big sister; it had been 30 years since I last saw her, so I suppose I was looking for someone who looked like her mom.
It shouldn’t have surprised me when I saw her two rows in front of us, but it did. Could that be her? Do I just walk up to her and introduce myself? Could it be as simple as that..?
When it was time in the service for those awkward moments of “greeting your neighbor” I shimmied out of our row and up toward hers; I ran into her husband first and, testing the waters, flat out asked him his name. When he confirmed my suspicion, I blurted, “I’m a friend of your wife’s from high school and she has no idea we’re living here….” and then I walked over to her.
She stared at me smiling, that friendly-greeting-a-stranger thing, clear she had no idea who I was. So I introduced myself. Before I could finish my sentence, recognition illuminated her face and she squealed You live here?! and she threw her arms around my neck. I squealed with my indoor voice (or at least I hope I did).
Just like that.
Just like that!
Over three decades had passed since we last saw each other, but like a rubber band stretched across time and space we snapped right back to Clarke Central’s glory days. It makes little sense but it is precious.
That’s the beauty of growing up in a small hometown, isn’t it? You’re connected by place and time, and years later something inexplicable still remains. Thayer and I weren’t close but we shared life. All these years later, affections linger.
Because I was brave enough to speak, to risk feeling silly or forgotten, I gained a lovely reward.
It is a glory of friendship to be able to pick up right where you left off, no matter the time between visits. No wonder we squeal.
The heart always remembers what the mind tends to forget….
Take a moment today to marvel at the ways you connect to others beyond time and geographical boundaries.
What a treasure, a reason to celebrate, a wonder.
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