I've been sort of obsessed with Birdy's song Wings lately. It makes me have all these nostalgic butterflies swirling in my stomach for some reason. And I've been thinking lately about old friends and Texas. My friend Melissa is a missionary in Peru. We've been messaging back and forth, catching up on life lately. And I think of sleepovers with her and giggling and laughing and talking when we were young girls.
Reconnecting with old friends--summing up our lives in a few paragraphs or over dinner and coffee. Trying to give people a glimpse of who we are, what our lives look like, what matters to us. The wonderful thing about reconnecting is that there's already a connection. There's history between you.
I like having history with people. I like meeting new people too, of course. It's important to keep your heart open, to make new friends, to embrace community and friendship. But when I think of Texas and my girlfriends from back there--it's a different kind of history. It's people who knew you during those formative years. These girls knew me back when my hair was permed, loveys.We grew up together.
We're still growing up, I think.
Thinking of Michelle--she and I have been best friends since we were twelve. It's like we're driving down a road together, seeing the same things. We talk about Gillian and Ashtyn and Lincoln. We talk about moving and building houses. We talk about marriage and family. We're growing and learning and experiencing different things now in our thirties. But we're still on that road together. Still looking out the window and seeing similar things.
That's a gift.
Sunday night I met up with a few girlfriends for dinner and a movie. There's something refreshing to me about being with other women. We talk about life and children and husbands--but we still giggle and laugh. Those moments are important to me.
And I hear that song . . . and it makes me think of so many people. As Melissa and I have chatted and reminisced lately, I think of beautiful, hot, humid Texas and all those years that mean more to me than I ever knew they could. I think of the lovely evening and the incredible Colorado sky Sunday night as I walked through the theater parking lot. My family . . . and those wonderful people back home in Texas whom I have so much history with. Those beautiful people all around me now, whom I'm building history with. I think of Jeff, who makes me better and who is always there.
And in these moments, and these memories, and the nature all around me--I think of Jesus too. There in all of it, I think of Him.
And I'm grateful.