I have just returned from my annual fall trip to Chattanooga to visit my good pal, Lurlene. What fun we have together! Shopping and eating out, seeing movies and sharing popcorn, walking through her neighborhood, attending her church, raiding her refrigerator. (Do you see a recurring theme here?)
I’m always amazed at how many of my friends live far away. There’s Lurlene—a full 10-hour drive straight south. Debbie is in Seattle; Elizabeth’s in New York. Peg calls St. Louis home. Karen flies in from Atlanta. Rachel, my favorite-leftover-from-college friend, still lives in the town where we went to school, 90 miles away. Mary Jo's in Birmingham. Of course, I have local friends, too. Desila, Kathy, Victoria, Terry. Each one special to me, each one unique.
I remember in elementary school, when I could name my best friend without even a moment’s thought. I could name my second-best and third-best friends, too. Then came college, career, family. My friends often tended to be the mothers of my kids’ friends or co-workers or other moms stuck at wrestling events or soccer matches.
One of the benefits of aging (pay attention, you youngsters!) is that I can choose my friends now. I can pick them from the garden of humanity as I would a lovely blossom. And, like flowers, my friends are colorful and occasionally wild. Some are bold while others are a tad shy. They come with a variety of interests—from knitting to jazzercise to playing the harp. A few are deeply spiritual; all share my faith in God and prayer.
After church last Sunday, Lurlene and I went to an outdoor farmer’s market—where we stumbled on a truly stunning display of dahlias. It took my breath, the riot of color and texture. I bought a bouquet for Lurlene, who had been the perfect hostess for the last three days.
One of the best things about dahlias is that they get better and better in late summer and autumn, when most other flowers are fading. (My friends now are so much better than those fifth-grade ones!) Surprisingly, dahlias are a tuber, like the lowly potato. (How boring if we all looked and acted the same!)
I’ve seen many seasons come and go. Watched roses bloom and fade, witnessed brave crocus poke through frozen ground. But the years have left me with more than tiny wrinkles at the corners of my eyes. They’ve taught me that good friends, like good flowers, are worth cultivating.
I'm hoping that the Terry, with a Y, was me and that I am counted as one of your friends! You truly are unique, fun, gifted, and faithful. I'm so glad to have you in my garden of friends. I loved this posting. I'm also happy that you had a great time with your gal pal. How do those women without girlfriends get through life? I sure couldn't!!!
I enjoy your posts so much! The flowers were beautiful! Friends are true gifts, and I must say, at my age most of my friends also live through out the country, and not near by. Praise God for the friends and for the Internet to stay in touch. Praise God for Our Prayer and the many good friends that I have found so much in common with, who are always in my prayers and know I am in theirs.
Dear MaryLou, We are so glad you took your photography class because these photos are truly fantastic - though I must say God had a hand in it with all those spectacular colors. I should remember to plant dahlias. I still remember when I was a little girl, I would follow my dad around in the garden with a small bushel basket - he would dig up the bulbs and I would place them in the basket so we could protect them from the winter and plant them in the spring. What good simple times those were!
I was reading my 1995 Daily Guideposts. Your friend Lurlene was writing about her cancer. She tells about a friend Mary Lou from Indiana, coming to be with her. I think this is what friendship is. Going out of your way for a friend. Thank you for all your great writings.
