The blogging through May challenge today is to blog about a blogger friend. Well, I haven’t really made any, so I thought I’d write about a real life friend. I’d say we’re like Anne Shirley and Diana Barry from Anne of Green Gables. Only we’re not like those characters at all, but our hearts are bound.
Oh, and if she were a blogger, you wouldn’t know what hit you. You’d laugh, you’d cry, you’d laugh some more.
I’ve sat here for a long time trying to write. I’ve written and deleted so many times. I’m having such a hard time writing about Chani without sounding like a romantic sap so I’m going to write a letter to her instead and try to sound intelligible.
Hey, remember back to when we were baby friends? Or even before that when we were just acquaintances? You probably thought I was some kind of awesome and I thought you were pretty amazing. I mean, who has a bunch of kids then adopts right after they have a baby? Saints, that’s who! Hahaha! Guess what, you’re no saint. But I do think you’re amazing and wonderful and you make me laugh like no other. (I’m even more awesome than you originally thought.)
Let’s go back in time. I went back to our very first facebook message. I asked you about church. You know, cuz I wanted to go to yours sometimes, but never really have. This is part of what I wrote in February of 2011:
Will I be the first totally messed up family to walk through that door? All broken and husbandless, that is, and with kids who make me want to take a long walk off a short pier? I might be joking about that last part. Dying in water is far too frightening. Really, I’m just a little paranoid about being the most high maintenance and messed up one in the group.
[I will say that after about 15 years of having that feeling described above, I no longer have any traces of that left in me.]
Later on in July I wrote:
It’s one of those days around here. The kind that makes the idea of waterboarding the kids seem like a trip to disneyland. The day I’m counting down the seconds until bedtime.
Let me just remind you that year was the year that Sage raged EVERY SINGLE DAY!!! We couldn’t go anywhere without him throwing things in the car or hitting or breaking things at home. It was truly horrible for me. You replied to that with the best answer ever:
We are not bad people. We are not bad believers. We are not bad parents. In fact, we are kick ass parents. I’d challenge most anyone to do what we do. I mean that.
Hang tough momma. Hang tough.
Thank you. I needed to hear all of that. I am not bad. All these challenges and feelings were weighing heavily on me. I couldn’t imagine how I was going to continue to live like that and nobody got it. Nobody believed how desperate I was. I was afraid. Very afraid.
At some point I watched a National Geographic documentary on stress. It talked about a group of women who had kids with special/high needs that found it difficult to connect with normal moms at times. I asked you, “Ever feel that way? I’m sure you do.” I couldn’t talk to normal moms and other that had done this seemed to know so much and be so awesome at it. I needed to talk to someone who failed sometimes, too. Someone like you.
Then one day (December 28, 2011) you offered to come out to see me, to do anything with me. You did it. You came to the place I was living at the time. We were renting a portion of someone else’s house and it was hard. When you arrived I was rearranging my entire living room, but I had gotten worn out and you were like, “Hey, let’s do it. I can do this. We’ll do it, you’ll feel better.” That right there, was the true beginning. We spoke of our disappointments and hopes and wonderings. I trusted you right then and there and chose to share my heart with you. I let it all out and it felt good. You walked with me in my move and even helped me paint. You were there when I had decided to move Dusty to Hope House in Idaho. You’ve been by my side.
Sure glad that your husband isn’t jealous of me!
Oh hey, remember that one time we decided to drive 12 hours one way together? I was afraid that we’d hate each other by the end, but I pretended that I was cool with it. You’d ask questions and I’d be like, “Chani, it’s all good. We’ll be fine” but I was really wondering what was going to happen. I laugh when I remember how we pretty much talked the entire drive. Well, except for when I fell asleep and you took a picture of me! You called us baby friends up to that point, after that we were adolescent friends.
I’d say by now that we’re old lady friends. The kind that text one another things that would be considered TMI and not even be embarrassed about it. We can lie in a king size bed and I’ll let you tease me about having “baby” legs and arms and looking up to see if I am short enough to attend a Little People convention so you could come with me as my average size friend. We can tell one another goodnight before going to our separate rooms then text each other for a bit before really going to sleep. In 20 or 30 years let’s hope I’m not still texting you about my need for getting a divorce, getting fit, and riding on merry-go-rounds. I’d rather text about running marathons, flying in private jets, and my travels with my man, whoever that turns out to be. (He’d have to meet your approval, of course, and I’d probably have him spend a day with Paul just to see what happens! Hahaha.)
Oh, I should say that it’s cute that you and your husband are so gross and googly eyed at one another still. Tell your runner of a husband that I said that.
Thank you for loving me in my brokenness. Thank you for laughing at me when I start to get all weird. I cannot even imagine what I would have done this past 1 1/2 years without you. You are amazing, ferocious, stubborn, funny, and real. I am so glad to walk this life journey together. I mean, look at us, we’re freaking amazing. Thank you for loving every part of me, even the ugly stuff. You know, like my dirty van and by dirty I mean filthy.
You are a treasure to me. Do you know that? Do you REALLY know that. You have contributed to the woman I am today and you tell me all the time how awesome I am. I am not freakishly ashamed and scared any more. God knew what He was doing when He finally, after years of us “knowing” each other, brought us together as friends. I have lost many friends and let others slip away. You, you’re one I’ll fight for and you know what? I know you’ll fight for me. Being friends with you has never been hard. Ever. Not even once. Even if it does get hard, that’s ok. We can take it.
I hope you laugh and cry when you read this. I also hope you read this after you put on your make up so that you mess up your mascara. There’s so much more I would say if this wasn’t an public forum. I’d make you laugh until you peed your pants then I’d take a picture of it and post it on facebook! Instead, I’ll just tell you (again) that you’re the…wait, never mind. That wasn’t gonna come out right. I was trying make a joke about those BK fish burgers and try to make it rhyme. That wasn’t going to work out so well.
You and me, baby. I’d get a tattoo or two with you. We gotta go get our maple leaf one. Canada forever. Then you know the one on my wrist. Wait, can you do invisible tattoos that only appear when you’re about to eat something you’re not supposed to or when I choose to drive instead of walk?
You are so beautiful!
Your RAD friend DAR
Go read some more blogs about amazing people at Story of My Life. Please let them know you were there and where you came from.