B.F.F.


A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere.  Before him I may think aloud.  I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal, that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which one chemical atom meets another.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I think one of two things are possibly happening to me. Either you truly do get more emotional and sentimental as you get older, or my contraceptive injection is wearing off (I’m due to be re-jabbed end of this month) and my hormones are experiencing some sort of imbalance. Whatever it is, I have experienced so many poignant moments this last week; tear jerking moments that made me feel like weeping with emotion – GOOD emotion! Moments that I want to encapsulate into a small little bag to take a peek at, over and over again. To name a few, the love letter that my mother wrote to me on my birthday, the phone calls, messages and emails I received all through the week, some from my favourite people in the world, and others from people I had lost contact with, but who still remembered it was my birthday, how special is that? All the beautiful gifts – well thought out, meaningful gifts – the thought of which made me more emotional than the gift itself; the people in my life know me SOOO well and that makes me feel so wonderfully gooey inside! The right ‘ol spoiling I got from my hubby and even my babies and hearing my boy sing happy birthday to me about 54 times, while his sister clapped in tune. I just felt so HAPPY.. but the moment I really want to blog about is Saturday afternoon.. and I will try my darnedest not to use the word emotional again!

I was surrounded by my friends.. and you know that moment when you feel like everything is moving in slow motion and you hear soppy music in the background, and you go around the table looking at everyone, and they’re all smiling back at you.. not really? Well perhaps you need to experience a hormone imbalance to experience such a moment but anyway, I looked at my friends and I felt so blessed and honoured to be in such good company. My friends have been with me through thick and thin – and I mean that both literally and figuratively – I’ve known some of them from the time my waist was small and my boobs were perky. Others I’ve picked up through marriage; when you marry a man, you often marry his friends too. And others I have met through work.

I love sharing my life with these people who really care about me and my wellbeing, people who can identify with the situations I find myself in, people who are there just to listen, to give advice, to berate and correct me, people who know when my kids birthdays are and let me take their real Tupperware home containing leftovers.. this is what colours my life. With being so far away from my own parents and siblings, these girls and their families have become my family away from home. My friends are a smorgasbord of characters, which is why I guess I love them all so dearly. I know who to turn to when I need some calm in my otherwise crazy life, I know who will tell me off immediately if I step out of line, I know who will give me savvy business advice or who will lend me the perfect dress to hide my less than perfect trouble areas. They are the wind beneath my wings when I’ve had a particularly hard day with the kids, or when the hubby and I are having a tiff. There’s no better remedy for a sore and tired heart, than a heart-to-heart with a good friend, who has walked the same plank.

So this is to my friends. I love each of you in a different and very special way. Thank you for sharing this thing called LIFE with me, and I thank God for each of you every day. I have no doubt that our friendship will span many years, as our kids grow up together and they too develop inseparable bonds, as we have. xxx

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.  The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.  ~Henri Nouwen

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