She arrived late and I did too. She admitted she was late cuz she got carried away browsing Pinterest. I was late cuz I needed to finish baking bread.
She wore a baggy hoodie over a simple dress, paired with brown lace up boots and a black hair tie on her wrist which she played with constantly. She had classic poof in her hair. I wore a chunky brown cardigan over a cotton dress paired with neutral socks and sandals and a delicate watch on my wrist. My hair also was in a poof, some things never change.
She ordered a matcha. I ordered a chai. She said she wasn’t hungry, yet I still ordered a muffin for us to share. I knew she would eat it.
We chose a table by the window, for that was still our favorite seat in a cafe.
She talked about feeling like she always needed to be the strong one and how exhausted she was and she didn't know how to prioritize her life in a healthy way. In her eyes, sat bondage. Bondage to people’s burdens. Bondage to her own expectations. Bondage to fear, oh so much fear. I could tell even her journal hadn’t heard all these words; she had kept this smothered for a while. She did this. Stuffed and stuffed and stuffed herself of every emotion. and then burst.
While I listened, a tear or two fell, because I remembered oh so well those days. Then I unfolded some hard truths. I explained how she was not the strong one, she never was. She bowed her head and dropped her shoulders. I reminded her how actually weakness is such a gift. That didn’t register completely but she tried her best to comprehend it. I reminded her of God and how she was carrying way more than He ever asked her to. I reminded her to keep being the friend she wanted. I offered the advice to stop worrying about being right and instead focus on being real. We talked about how her true self was not too much and we talked about shame. I explained tools she could use to let go of circumstances and emotions. I suggested a Thrfitbooks order, grab a copy of Free of Me and also I Dont Wait Anymore. We talked about letting God wildly love us. She sighed and swiped a coffee tear off her hoodie. I looked down, noticing I also had dribbled coffee on my cardigan. We smiled.
She asked deep questions about singleness and she sobbed about heartbreak. I held her hand and explained her desire for marriage was nothing to be ashamed of. I encouraged her to keep doing personal work. I also encouraged her to get to know God for who HE is, not for what He gives. In our hold, her hand softened.
She asked if I was doing okay and I smiled the smile you can't help but smile when you get to reply ‘’Yes. Honey, I'm living my best life.’’ Her eyes birthed a sparkle. ‘’Really?’’ ‘’Really.’’
She chatted enthusiastically about dreams of Mercy Ships, going back to RHR, volunteering in an orphanage, teaching special ed, and even dwarf dreams like hosting a winter picnic, letting go of a chinese lantern, and growing her own herbs. Again, I reached for her hand. Her enthusiasm, not stained by death, made me smile. I told her I still had an ongoing bucket list on my notes app, but also, now I carried a different perspective on dreams. I shared with her how personal Heaven had become.
Every ten minutes or so, she checked her phone and shot swift texts off. As I watched, a knot forged in my throat. She had no idea how much she took life and friendship for granted.
I ripped off a slice of napkin and scribbled ''just keep doing the next right thing'', and stuck it in her clear phone case.
We talked for hours. The afternoon sun was falling asleep through the cafe windows and the clock was inviting us home. She reached for the last bite of the muffin and commented she wanted to come with me, ‘’No honey. You must go through it all to meet me where I am.’’
‘’But... do I have what it takes?’’
‘’Not you personally, no. But you have God, go with Him.’’
She nodded and smiled. I told her how much I love her, and with one last hand squish, we let go and divided ways. Soon, I wish to meet her again.
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