Our Gals

This photo seemed to suddenly appear on the counter of my barbeque this week. Magically, the day after my neighbor removed years of jungle growth from his backyard. It may be someone who lived in our neighborhood. Though for me it has a Midwest sensibility. Or is that Hollywood? There is the possibility It is one of those nameless photos placed in a frame as it's readied for display and sale. 

Whoever they are, whomever they belong to, I like them. I love the collusive head touch. The color of their dress. The expectancy of secrets, plans, joys, meals and tears shared. All that comes with being a gal with our wonderful, deeply meaningful friendships.  

As I gaze at the girls on the yard I get to feel the pleasure of my mom and her 60's Club that met every Tuesday night at one of the neighborhood homes just to be the girls in the neighborhood. I live filled with the days on end language of my own sweet sister and I turning over every conversational stone possible. And then I feel the giddiness of high school conversations, every day, especially the phone chats with Gail. The hours of gabbing with Val in college at the donut shop when we should have been elsewhere. The deep working and praying it through with Krissy. The wonderful discoveries of Momhood with Michelle. The trading fours of a conversation with MP. The knowing love of MT. The company of Mary. The way Lori really listens. And the delight of "reasoning it through" with Jemma.
I love the sitting on the bed and talking face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart with my own girlie. The list is long. I live with the joy of the women on the journey and the gals who walk in the neighborhood. What would I do without those girlfriend words, "You're singing my song, sister!"

For me this is what abundance and blessing looks like. 
Rich and with a touch of a giggle.

Observe the shape of the heart

On a summer trip with my dear friend visiting our dear friend, we poked our selves into a little store with wonderful pieces designed by hand and intended to delight the eye. A beautiful silver heart with a lovely poem on a long, heavy silver chain whispered from inside the glass cabinet and started making promises about a life together. I loved it the moment I saw it. I loved it as I looked at it. And when the proprietor let me hold it. When I tried it on and when I asked the price handing it back. I continued to love it after we left the store and when we were all at the table eating and when all the parents and the children were in bed  and in the mornings and days that followed. I was using my rational price vs. value mind when I wrestled with the idea of taking it home and when we went to the store to look again. To hold it. To wrestle.

Finally my dear friend looked at me with her dear friend wisdom pouring out all over and said, "you might need to buy this just because you like it so much."

I did. And it has been with me for several years, bringing me much joy. Worn over sweaters and T-shirts. To the theater and management meetings and kiddie parties. It's become a symbol of love and faith for me.
It's been lost and found more than once. Once it was given to a friend who asked simply if she could have it. Much was learned in the process. Giving whatever is asked of you in a Book of Luke kind of way. She learned about what she was supposed to do over the weekend of ownership and gave it back to me with a letter of love.
Recently it went missing for a good 6 months and when I finally decided to let it go, my husband came to me and made me close my eyes when he dripped the heavy metal thing back into my hands. It had been lodged between the dresser and the wall in an unfortunate dusting accident. He gave me back my heart. So the necklace became a gift to me. But not in the purchasing. It was in the vision of my dear friend and in the returning that the shiny silver heart has shaped the way I see it. By its weight, its words and its homecomings.

Jeanine Payer is an amazing jewelry designer. Check her webstore or head to San Francisco.

Living in service.

When I consider the life of Senator Edward M. Kennedy I am moved by his constancy in service to the people of Massachusetts and our country. I have neither political eyes, nor thought. My heart is moved to this recognition that our greatest opportunities are found in serving each other.

Losing the last of the Kennedy brothers certainly marks the end of an historical era. And simultaneously, it offers the opportunity to remark a legacy. My hope is that as we watch and listen and read about Senator Ted Kennedy, we are called to remember not the tragedies, but the accomplishment on behalf of others. A life redeemed not by his service, but for service.

I wish to see and be moved to act by his compassion, his dedication, his service, his faith and faithfulness. I want to move in giving the bread to the least of these and the cup of water also.