Sunday morning, in early morning hours, presented a celebration of the art of God. It was one of those glorious days that you want to hold on to forever. Gorgeous foliage singing over my soul with brightest reds, blazing golds and friendly breezes of coolness that bespoke of the coming snows. Walking downtown Colorado Springs amongst the blocks of turn of the century homes, all bedecked with porches where hours upon hours were wiled away with children playing, grown ups catching their breath and sharing the events of the day spent in home and family labor and marveling at the sunset on the distant mountain of Pike's Peak.
I was walking, walking these remnants of 8 or ten blocks and enjoying the reverie that comes from such a day. Only there was one thing missing--my dearest Sarah. Almost palpable was my longing for you to be beside me as we had been for so for at least a decade. For many years, we had awakened at 6 on Saturday and sometimes Sunday mornings, before anyone else in the house stirred to steal away together to our favorite downtown cafe, a haven for sharing secrets, discussing the profound ideas we had been pondering and connecting to each other soul dreams. Most of the year, when the weather allowed we would follow our rendezvous with invigorating walks in these wonderful tree lined streets that whispered of over a hundred years of memories of families dwelling together, sharing life through the last century.
I think we loved these walks and especially these blocks because they reminded our hearts of the kind of community we only dream of in this contemporary isolationist life--the days of Anne of Green Gables. The times when families lived close, neighbors knew each other and shared values and beliefs and life together, where children played freely together over the gardens of each others families while the adults befriended each other through the seasons of the years of life. This was always the dream place that we wished we had shared. This became the place of sharing in each other's dreams and wishes and hopes.
But this day, Sarah was off at a writing seminar that Clay had found for her--off for three weeks to adventures of her own with kindred spirits. How she had become my deepest of deep friend, whose soul mirrored my own, who had called to my deepest parts to be excellent to walk with God and to love Him in a worthy way. I could not have understood as a young mom how profoundly my children would become my bestest of friends, my confidants and spiritual companions.
How thankful I am that God was one who was seeking companionship in the garden when looking for Adam and Eve. How thankful that scripture tells of Moses being the friend of God. That Jesus lived and loved and ate with His disciples and shared deeply in the sadnesses and celebrations--that the living God didn't just impose a set of theological thoughts upon our minds, but that He was the original friend and one who would understand our need for intimacy that would satisfy our souls.
So, I missed you, my beautiful Sarah, but I had the most amazing day with Joy, on Monday, in honor of our own memories--celebrating life--walking together on another road, having coffee together, sharing secrets and forging our own friendship. It will never replace you, but in the memory of your wings spreading, we will celebrate the excellence of our "girl's club" that we have all built over the years and look forward to visiting you wherever in the world God takes you.