i got to her house around seven, the heat of the day and the coming storms causing my recently washed hair to frizz. given the attire was pajamas required i wasn't concerned. we jumped into conversation quickly, her husband retreating to the study for work. the nail polish box found its way to the table and immediately we started filing and trimming and painting to the words of our heart.
i'm not sure if there was a topic we didn't cover. there was even a moment where i may have said speaking of zombies...and proceeded to talk about some guy eating another's face in florida.
this is how it is with my friends, though. nothing is off limits; nothing is deemed untouchable.
and you know what? this does good to my heart.
regardless of what these posts may lead you to believe, there is still much i do not share. the tear stained lined pages of my red moleskine would be proof to this. perhaps this is why i find myself understanding jeremiah. he was the weeping prophet, right? and so often i find my emotions bent over double with the pain in this world.
but my friends? my friends hold my heart gingerly in their hands. they are the ones who've taken my story and chosen to link arms with me, holding me up when i can't hold myself. they breathe courage into me - real life bravery - and their texts and conversations and emails remind me of how needed community is, how fragile this relational intimacy can be if we let it.
so today, i'm thankful for girls' nights. i'm thankful for manicures and pedicures and listening to the fears and dreams and wonderings of my heart-friends. i'm thankful for nothing being off limits - even zombies.
but most of all i'm thankful for the reminder that this flesh and blood skin we live in can move and breathe and come alongside those who hear our heart's cry with a willingness to say me too.