Rare Gifts

I went to a public high school, but it was a fairly small school in comparison to many. Eighty people in my graduating class, actually. We were the smallest class in the school and had a dreadfully small population of girls.

But in the small group of girls in the small class in the small school, I had a handful of really great friends. We were all very different, but we stuck together...this random, eclectic group of us...some from story hour all the way through to senior year.

I was fairly invisible in high school {a detail which annoyed me immensely then, but I'm ridiculously grateful for now...I'm sure it kept me out of more trouble than I'll ever know} - but to this group, I was someone.

And then of course, we graduated, the girls in the duct tape silver robes and the guys in their classy black robes...and we all parted ways. We headed OUT of the tiny town INTO the great wide world to make our way.

Through the magic of Facebook, I've managed to keep tabs on most of that handful of my friends, but I've had the rare privilege of keeping in real-life touch with a few of them. Game nights with some, lunches out with others. And through it all, I've realized that this is probably not normal, yet I'm grateful for it.

Last night, Ryan went over to help his sister with some things at her new house, and I got together with two of my high school friends. The last time we got together for a meal was ten years ago. {We know this because one of the girls was pregnant with her first baby back then.} We all converged upon our old town and met up for dinner at Subway - and we sat in that restaurant for three hours.

It started out with all the obligatory talk, where we figured out where we all were in life, but in no time at all, we were reminiscing about the "old" days and declaring that they couldn't actually be the old days, because we're not old. We got crazy bold and told stories that ended with, "Did I just overshare?" And of course, the answer was no, because we're not three game-playing junior high girls anymore, but three grown-up girls foraging our way through a formulaless life, genuinely caring about each others' struggles.

In many ways, we have nothing in common. One of us is single. One of us is married with kids. And then there's me - the newlywed with no kids. But we found a way to weave our vastly different details in such a way that we found very similar matters of the heart underneath those details.

These were the girls who celebrated every birthday with me, who came to my house for a Friday night sleepover and then invited me over a few weeks later to return the favor. These were the ones I exchanged notes with in the hallway {remember the crazy folded notes of the 90's?}. These were the ones who knew all my embarrassing secrets and quirks and for reasons still unknown to me, loved me anyway.

And last night, we bravely shared more secrets and quirks and we spoke words of love and encouragement - over diluted Pepsi and tea.

After we went our separate ways, we texted back and forth about what a fun night it had been...and I signed off by saying "I love that we can still be friends like we were back in the day. I consider that a rare gift."

And I do. To have two friends who have walked the most awkward phases of life with you...choose to walk intentionally back in almost twenty years later...and to be able to pick up with the same love and acceptance, is a beautiful gift.

We were seen. We were known. We were accepted. We belonged. A rare and magnificent gift.