o.k.

Why am I here? Who will I even talk with? How can I afford this?

These were a few of the questions pounding in my mind as I stepped onto the beach at Anna Maria Island. The most prominent and pervasive question was placed in my mind a few days prior by my pastor, given to me as an unwanted gift.

Who is helping to protect your heart?

I searched and searched for somewhere to land on the subject. Just like the raven sent out by Noah, I came up empty-handed. I did have people at some point. Ladies with whom I biked, walked and “had coffee”.

Then something changed

in me.

My normal disposition is outgoing and happy. Hugs and deep talks– that’s me. Adventurous and chill.

Circumstances changed though.

Someone very dear to me died. A young man from when we were youth pastors. One of “my kids.” My husband lost his job, plus a few more after that (believe me, he is brilliant—it was just crappy circumstances.) I became pregnant when I was forty-six and while my tubes were tied. After the news of that settled into my heart and we finally felt safe after three months to announce the pregnancy, I had a violent miscarriage a few days later. Meanwhile, my closest friend was becoming great friends with another group of ladies. I honestly did not blame her.

I was poor, sad and broken.

So when my pastor spoke on the importance of friends who will protect you and stand in the gap when you are weary, whilst I was sitting alone in church, I got pissed off.

My anger was like a sprinkler. Not directed at anyone in particular. I just could not figure out why everyone around me was able to ignore this gaping wound in my chest. Honestly, as many people as I had reached out to, mourned with, counseled, held and genuinely cared for . . .

where were they when I needed them?

I was sliding down fast into the hole of self-pity and despair. Just the kind of person people want to hang out with, right?

So, this four-day beach trip was put together by a sweet lady in the church, the kind of lady with which everyone wants to be friends. She just wanted a time we could all just have fun with no agenda. I was honored she asked me to join, so my first reaction was a resounding, “YES!” I didn’t think how I would not have anyone to room with nor have the money for a room. I think my husband was so thrilled for me to have a distraction, that he was supportive of my selling off possessions in order to go.
Next, I needed roomies. All my friends prior to my “funk” were all in a cottage together. I wanted to back out so bad. It just seemed awkward. By now though, my husband was being my main cheerleader and was committed to seeing that I go through with this. So, I asked a good acquaintance to share a room in the cottage with me. And we ultimately found a group of “misfit” ladies like ourselves. We all rode out together– a mishmash of personalities. The second-string team. It was a fun group.

Once we unpacked our car and settled into our rooms (mine being a futon in the living room) I headed down to the beach.

At this point point, my anger returned. I saw the groupings of friends and realized I was alone. Unfortunately for her, the first person I came upon was a precious and kind lady named Priscilla. Pri is always good for a tight hug and a thought provoking question. Little did she know that she was uncapping a shaken up soda. Remembering only my response to her question, I exclaimed,”We are not friends! Name one thing you know about me!” She did. “That is my FB status” I spat.

Yikes.
Not the best start to the weekend.

That evening, the whole group was going out to dinner. Sadly, my “futon friend” Dana was not feeling well. Still feeling disconnected, and not wanting to leave Dana alone, I decided to stay back. Not much happened. We silently watched T.V. and I stroked her hair as she fought to keep her food at bay. We talked a little, but not much. After greeting our returning housemates, we went into a long night of restless sleep.

I rose before dawn and headed to the beach again. I spent over an hour crying out to God. All I could see for miles was a shoreline scattered with beautiful, broken shells. As I gathered them up, I exclaimed, “This is me! I am so broken!!” God gently replied (yes folks, God was very audible in my spirit), “I see the beauty in the broken.”

Although my hurt loomed over me, my conversation with God left me some hope. I behaved. I apologized to Pri and asked for prayer. I also did not shy away from any opportunities to hang out with varying people. I enjoyed myself. I especially loved that the entire group of ladies came to our “house” and played games and got silly that evening.

After everyone went to bed, Dana, her daughter (who had arrived that day) and I stayed up until 3 a.m. laughing hysterically. I would invite you into the conversations, but they were too stupid to retell. Nonetheless, our wails of hysteria and giggling became the tools wielded by God himself to rebuild my brokenness.

A few hours later, Jesus brought me back to the beach. The sun was breaking the horizon. This time, He asked, “What do you want?” I cried and cried as I kicked the shells and then audibly replied, “I want to be whole again!”

“Done.”

I immediately looked down, and there lay a perfect, beautiful shell.

That day I spent more time with my housemates; in particular, Dana. She and I had hung out many times before the beach trip. We would go on walks or have playdates with our kids. I liked her. She had always been very kind. She had supported me when I got pregnant at forty-two with Elias. Then, I did the same for her when she was surprised to have Ava exactly one year after Eli. Same birthday. Although we had our kids, church and mutual friends in common, there was a lot of things that weren’t. She home-schooled. My kids were in public. She is everything organic and holistic. I vaccinate, take meds and eat at McDonalds. Her idea of a perfect day would be a massage, mani/pedi, salad and sit (not swim) by the pool. Mine would be playing mud volleyball and going out for tacos. And the list goes on. We were very different people (not to mention, she is stunningly beautiful). Regardless, I enjoyed her company along with the company of the other “misfits.” The gaping wound in my chest was beginning to seal up.

Our last morning there, God again, pulled me from my slumber in order to stir my soul. Today was different. It started the same–me crying out and Him asking “What do you want?” As if the sun rising was pushing me as I dragged my feet in the shallow water, I repeated my earlier cries to be healed of brokenness.
“What do you WANT?” His delivery was more stern.
“I don’t know!” I retorted, quite loudly.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” He pressed.

“A BEST FRIEND!” I literally yelled.

“O.K.”

O.k.? O.K.?!! What did He mean by that? I did not know how to process what just happened. Will He restore my old friendship? She was there. It could have happened. Perhaps one of these new acquaintances would blossom into a real friendship. I honestly had no clue. All I knew was “O.k.”

It was time to pack up. My husband was right to kick me out of our house. I ended up having a great time.

I said goodbye to my merry band of misfit roomies and climbed into my friend Meredith’s car. Little did I know my life was about to change.

After about a mile down the road, I heard hello sunshine (my text message indicator).

I miss you already. – Dana

No! Dana?? NO! What? God are you serious right now?? That makes no sense!

O.k.

During the two weeks that followed, Dana and I spent almost every day together. God knew exactly what we needed. It turns out, both our husbands had lost their incomes. We bonded over the difficulties of applying for food stamps and selling off things on garage sale sites. Whenever anyone had extra, we shared. “It’s what we do” became our slogan as we bought each other groceries or put gas in the tank. There wasn’t any embarrassment or shame. We walked the same path. It was a beautiful thing. Still is.

We are still so wildly different. These differences have become a catalyst for the making of this blog actually. Even though on a VENN Diagram or a T Chart our relationship makes no sense, we have realized how much we can learn– not only about each other, but other relationships as well through our different points of view. Knowing that God brought us together, not us, keeps us with both feet in the relationship with the vision of how “iron sharpens iron.” No escaping out the back door.

I am thankful for a God who cares about healing the brokenhearted (Psalm 147:3). That pushes me to be honest with Him and myself.

I am thankful for a husband that is wise enough to push me past my comfort zone.

I am thankful for a pastor that preached from his own pain which stirred my spirit.

I am thankful for my friend Darlene that organized the trip so that us women could bond together and for the band of misfit friends that I still love and enjoy.

And I am thankful that Dana was my “o.k.” from God.