correspondence tuesday [seventeen]

yes, i know i skipped last week, and yes, i know this is 2 days late...it's been an interesting 2 weeks to say the least. i've been asking and answering questions that i wasn't prepared to ask or answer. it's been a time where i've had to literally sit down and write what i know to be true, and go from there. pete says it well here...it's part of life...and i would rather ask questions than not have any. with that said, here's correspondence tuesday for this week.

when i met you i thought you were so cool and i was determined to be your friend. i was going through a 'phase' that has apparently lasted the past 8 years, because after a lifetime of trying to be 'normal' (whatever that means) i was finally embracing the parts of me that were different. and now, i guess, the different is just as much a part of me as the normal. my different is now normal, and you helped shape that. i was intrigued by weird hair, edgy clothes, music no one had ever heard of, art…a world that was not my own. i wanted to make that world my own, though, and in my 20 year old brain that meant hanging out with your family. and you let me. you welcomed me into the folds of your lives like i belonged there, and i can't imagine a time when i didn't. [interjection: i realize while i'm writing this that you are prob. the only ones in the world that will even begin to truly understand what i mean, and that's the beauty of it].

i've seen you through 2 additions to your family, deaths, a college graduation (finally!), friendships both old/new and lost/restored, something like 5 pets (probably more), 3 moves, 1 house purchase, hairstyle changes, job changes, marriage changes, life changes….the list goes on and on.
you've watched me grow up and become independent, you've seen me become…well, me. you've stood beside me, walked behind me, listened, talked, called me out, encouraged. you've shown up for the important parts of my life from college graduation to my re-entrance into America from my Chinese adventure. You've cried when I left and rejoiced upon my return. You've participated in my ventures and believed in me.

this weekend is part of those changes that i've been anticipating. you are currently packing up the last of your worldly possessions that you didn't sell and soon they will be loaded into a u-haul and you'll leave tennessee behind. my hope is that you will leave a lot behind, actually, because not all of the past ten years is necessary to pack - i say we leave that baggage, okay? and you're headed toward something, instead of running away from anything. it's something different and soon the different will become your new normal. and the people in texas won't know your stories and your pasts and where you came from to get to this point, and that's partly a good thing because your past doesn't have to be your platform and you can choose what you share. but secretly, i'm glad i know everything - and i mean everything, because you have all trusted me with the depths of you - because within your family is a story of redemption, of being lost and being found, of something beautiful growing from ashes. and i see it and i'm so proud to say i was - i am - part of it. part of you.

tomorrow i will fly down south, jump in a u-haul with you, and ride 12 hours to texas with no CD player and a radio that may or may not work. it might just be the most uninterrupted time i've spent with you and i don't take that lightly. the beautiful thing about it is that several people are responsible for funding this adventure - i haven't had to pay a dime. 4 of the people closest to me knew how important it was that i make this transition with you, and have paid for my flight, my transportation to and from the airport, and my food. and i guess that's God's way of affirming that i'm a member of the family, and where you go i will go too. and that transition, though rough, doesn't mean the end of anything, just a beginning.

love
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [sixteen]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the sixteenth edition - enjoy!

when you were born i thought that mom and dad had you just for me…mom was the surrogate but you were really my child. i supposedly wasn’t so keen on the idea that other people wanted to hold you – you were mine. and i’ve believed that ever since. he hurt you? i will kill him, you are mine. need help with homework? no problem, since you are mine. college scheduling got you confused? i’ll take care of it; after all, you’re mine. need some money? of course – you are mine. some would call me possessive. i call it fiercely protective.

we never had any “sibling rivalry.” i don’t even know what that means. i genuinely wanted more for you than i wanted for myself, though mom and dad tried (still try) their best to make everything even. if dad said no, you asked mom. if mom said no, you asked me. i usually said yes. i realize that this getting everything you wanted thing was probably not the best for your growth as an independent adult, but if i could just let you hold on to childhood a little longer, to not have responsibilities, to not understand what living in the real world meant, then i would have done my job. some would call me an enabler. i call it supportive.

the past year i have gotten to know you as a person instead of my little sister. when i describe you to other people, the only way i can try to explain is by saying, “we are so alike, but we are so different.” like me, you are a good conversationalist. like me, you are a true and loyal friend. like me, you love deeply. and like you, i have great style (you definitely had it first, mine was a long time coming!) but while we are the same in so many things, we approach life differently. you possess many character traits that i didn’t teach you. so many thoughts and opinions that i don’t agree with. and though i love most of your clothes, there are a few pieces i wouldn’t be caught dead wearing (and i know the feeling is mutual!)

you will be 25 years old in 4 days. i know that 25 is scary – and you’ve mentioned how unexcited you are about this age – but trust me, 25 is a good year. life just gets better the older i get, and i hope the same is true for you. i love to spend time with you more than anyone in the world – you just get me like no one else ever has. i’m so proud of who you’re becoming. and i’m excited to watch you as you grow (without my help) into a strong and beautiful woman.

happy birthday, little sister.

love,
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [fifteen]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the fifteenth edition - enjoy!

His way is in whirlwind and storm,
and the clouds are the dust of his feet.

Nahum 1:3b

i read this yesterday morning and thought of you. of course, you've been on my mind a lot these days. when someone i love is going through a hard time, i want to do whatever i can to fix it, change it, make life better and easier. but if God has taught me anything, it's that i CAN'T FIX PEOPLE and especially that i can't change them. i'm learning that sometimes His way is in the whirlwinds and storms of life, that His best doesn't always mean sunshine and rainbows.

i wish you could see yourself the way i see you - the way we all see you. you are truly one of the most beautiful people i've ever met. i don't think you realize the impact you make by simply walking into a room. and on top of that, you are incredibly talented and smart. you never give yourself enough credit, you never want us to make a big deal out of you, and you are hesitant to take a compliment - not because you're prideful, but because you truly don't believe it. i hope that through all of this you begin to look at yourself differently and perhaps realize that you are enough.

so instead of fixing and changing, this is one of those letting go things that i'm getting better at. it's letting you talk if you want to, but if not i will sit beside you silently, hoping you know that i love you. it's crying with you because i see all of the good in you that you don't yet see. it's giving you your space to grieve this loss properly, because it is a loss and there's a process that you have to go through. but most importantly, it's encouraging you to cling to the One who is in the midst of the storm with you, the One who created the storm and can - will - calm it.

there is an edward out there for your bella, except your edward is better than the fictional character we love so much. your edward will love you because of the Jesus he sees when he looks at you. when the time is right, he will love you the right way - the way you deserve to be loved. and you will love again.

correspondence tuesday [fourteen]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the fourteenth edition - enjoy!

[bring your sad face, you might need it]

i have never had a friend like you. i walked into this job determined that it would be different from my last [miserable] job, and made a conscious effort to do things completely opposite this time. therefore, i vowed not to get caught up in the personal lives of my co-workers, to keep them at arm's length. see, if you don't make anything personal, you don't have to take anything personally. if i don't share my thoughts, feelings, and emotions with you, you're not responsible for them when i get hurt.

however, despite my neuroticism (including but not limited to my overuse of hand sanitizer) you quickly became my favorite person in the office. i found myself telling you things i didn't share with most other people - venting about whatever predicament i found myself in, telling you stories about my life and how i grew up and who i was before i moved to new york. i shared with you about REVO and the planning that was involved, and you listened and supported and even showed up. we discussed religion and politics and celebrity gossip and everything in between.

i think my favorite part of my friendship with you is the arguments. not the ones where we're actually irritated - those have been few and far between - but the banter that makes us laugh more than anything. if there's anything we're good at it's arguing a point, even if we agree with each other. sure, it might be arguing for the sake of argument, but the truth is that we're both compassionate people who are able to step back and see another point of view. this speaks volumes about character.

i don't want you to leave. the only good thing about all of this is that i probably won't get in trouble for laughing too loudly anymore. okay, well, besides the fact that you're going to change the world by serving some underprivileged children in India...i mean that's pretty awesome too. but that's it, only 2 reasons. maybe you could reconsider?

seriously though - i could not have made it this far without you. i don't know what life is going to look like when you're not here, but i do know my thighs are going to return to their pre-working out state because i don't have someone to force me to go to the gym anymore. thank you for making the past year at this company more enjoyable. thank you for teaching me, inspiring me, loving me, and letting me borrow your mascara. more than all that, thank you for sharing yourself with me and for allowing me to share myself with you.

you will be missed.

correspondence tuesday [thirteen]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the thirteenth edition - enjoy!

while twelve isn’t really a big number, twelve years sure is a long time. It’s almost half my life, really, and that’s pretty strange. Three years from now it WILL be half my life that I’ve known you, and in four years I will have known you longer than I have not known you.

you and I met at a summer camp at the weird, awkward age of 15. I’m pretty sure you were singing some song about peeing in the pool, and I’m also pretty sure I thought that was hilarious. everyone has his or her own summer camp "romance" stories, but I felt like – and still feel like – ours was different. there is an invisible Hand that has tied us together throughout the years, and even when we’ve tried to sever that tie (and let’s be honest, there have been a couple of times) we couldn’t.

we met right after our freshman year in high school, and I would still say that year was the hardest year of my life – with the second hardest year being the one when i moved to new york city and was alone for the first time. in such instances, our Creator provides guideposts for us…people we meet along the way to swim beside us.and as only One who knows best can do, He provided you for me and me for you. after camp (all 4 days of it – which is so funny to me now, because I was ‘in love’ after 4 days?) we talked on the phone for hours and hours and wrote letters – LETTERS – to each other (which, in retrospect, were hard to read because YOU HAVE HORRIBLE HANDWRITING). i don’t even remember what we talked about – 15, and then 16, and even 17 year old stuff I imagine. i believe that your words and strength carried me through the turmoil that was high school.

fast forward to 2003 when you met the woman who is now your wife – the one who saved your life in both literal and metaphorical ways. i love that it was so important to you that i meet her – as if you knew what was ahead. just don’t forget that she and i make a great team in tough situations, and that's all i'm gonna say about that. and good thing she's awesome, because i get to love her too, and the "you" is now plural.

and now...now, we're wading through everything life throws at us. we haven't lived in the same city for years but we've managed to remain close. if it's important to you (plural), it's important to me, and i know it's mutual. and let's not forget that baby, the one i have yet to meet, the one who has my name as her middle name on her birth certificate. you know you're growing up when your friends start having babies, and you know they think really highly of you when they name their babies after you. it's an honor, one i don't take lightly.

i'm thankful that my 15-year-old version of "romance" turned into something much deeper and more meaningful than we could know at the time. but mostly, i'm thankful for the One who knew that sometimes you just need people to swim with who have been there since diving in.

even if they do pee in the pool.

love,
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [twelve]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the twelfth edition - enjoy!

in the summer of 2000 i wanted to work at a camp, and the one where i got a job was in PA. so you took about a week off of work and decided to drive me up there, with the intention of spending time together and stopping at various places along the way.
i wish i had written everything down. i wish i kept a journal then like i do now. but it remains one of my favorite times with you, and i’m so glad we took that trip.
there was the long car ride, where I enjoyed talking to you so much i didn’t want to sleep. i had a lil gray pillow should i decide to do so, but we talked and talked and talked about life and love and everything else. i had just finished my freshman year of college and discovered i really didn’t know much of anything about life. you had just been through a rough time in your own life, and now i realize you were probably thinking the same thing about yourself. nonetheless, we had probably our first conversation as friends instead of parent and child.
we had no agenda. no expectations. this is how, instead of heading to the Hershey museum once we got to PA, we decided to hit up the theme park instead. i love that about you, your spontaneity. probably where i get it.
and then we got to spend a few days in new york city. i didn’t know that it would change the course of my life as i knew it, that i would fall irrevocably in love with this city and all that it embodied. i didn’t know that regular people like us could see shows on Broadway, but of course you had done your research, and surprisingly i won lottery tickets to RENT on the first try. and every morning you would head down to the bakery across the street and get us breakfast and have it waiting for me when i woke up. you have always been an early riser, and i can be a late sleeper, and i can’t imagine waiting as patiently as you did for me to get up and get going so we could explore. so you could show me the magic of new york.
and another memory, one that isn’t so happy. though i have now reconciled it in my heart, it took a while for me to stop feeling guilty.
we were walking down the street, and i was hungry, and 19, and i picked a fight with you, and in the typical teenage fashion, i whirled around and walked off.
i don’t even remember why i was mad, but i was, and i thought the best thing to do was remove myself from the situation. and now, in my wise old age of 27, i can’t fathom how you were feeling just standing there watching me walk away from you. you knew it was your job to take care of me, to shelter me, to be my father. but you let me go.
i only walked around the block once, but it took forever. i was scared that i wouldn’t be able to find you, that you would be mad, that you would have left me and i would be all alone. in new york city.
but when i rounded the corner, you were there. still standing in the same place i left you. waiting for me to return, because you knew i would.
everything was fine and we went to eat some pizza. you never brought it up again, but i never forgot.
you are a good dad, and you are becoming good friend. it hasn't always been easy, this transition from parent to friend, but we've stuck with it, and learned from our mistakes. it's good. and i will never forget that even when i walk away, or run away, you will never leave me all alone in new york city or wherever our travels may take us (to the ends of the earth).

you will let me go, but when i round the corner, you will still be standing there, waiting.

love,
elizabeth

** edited to add my dad's response to this post:

What a great memory you have for details!
Some of those had slipped my mind but I can still see your face when you saw all those roller coasters [at the Hershey Theme Park].
Remember the Statue of Liberty from our window as the fog lifted?
Kate Spade.
The afternoon in Times Square when you said, "Dad. You don't understand. I have to live here someday." And I knew you would.

We've done some fun things over the years but I have never enjoyed anything more than taking that trip with you. I will always think of it as a most significant time in our life together.

Love,
Dad

correspondence tuesday [eleven]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the eleventh edition - enjoy!

Old friend, I hear you.
I know just how you feel.
I've been in your shoes before.
I've seen your worries,
and I can understand everything you're going through.

My friend, I've listened.
Things only can improve.
You have all the time in the world.
So keep on fighting,
and never let them say there's anything that you can't do.

Cause I believe in you, your time is coming.
Don't give up tonight.
There's a life ahead, your time is coming.
Don't let go tonight.

I watched as you sat with a cigarette in your hand
holding a drink in the other
trying to drown all your pain…

Old friend, you'll realize,
good things are worth the wait.
Enjoy the times that you have.
You'll see a new day
when darkness fades again
and the sun can rise to shine.

And I believe in you, your time is coming.
Don't give up tonight.
There's a life ahead, your time is coming.
Don't let go tonight.

- Piano Song by Juliana Theory, because sometimes other people say it better than I can

correspondence tuesday [ten]

when we first met 8 years ago, i was enthralled with you: the bright lights, the shimmering metal, the multitudes of people, your intricate public transportation system, times square, the dizzying height of the world trade center, RENT on Broadway...everything i saw. The day i stepped out of Penn Station and looked up, the first thought i had was, "home. this is home." and six years later, after graduating college and a brief stint overseas, it was time.
i packed everything i thought i needed in 2 suitcases and got on a plane. the first 6 months were hard so hard that i almost left you for another city, for somewhere i thought was better. somehow i was able to fall in love with the real you - to see past the lights and the metal and the crowds and the perception that your outward facade was all that there was to you. the real you just makes all of that more beautiful, more inviting. i still love times square and broadway. public transportation is the best thing ever, especially these days. and my heart beats fast every time i look at your skyline. walking across your bridges is one of my favorite things to do, just to see you from a different perspective. you have so much to offer, and because of you i have learned so much about me.
i can't believe it's been two years. oh, 2 years. words just don't do it justice.

happy 2 years, new york.

correspondence tuesday [nine]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the ninth edition - enjoy!

the thing I love the most about you is that, at any point in time, I can ask you, “what’s God doing in your life” and you always have an answer. and it’s never the “Sunday school” type answer—you’re always genuine, even if the answer is difficult.

I guess we first met back in 2002 when I became friends with a group of your friends. you were living across the country at that time, and all I heard was how much I would like you. now, in most cases, when someone tells me “you will really like ____, you guys have a lot in common,” I usually don’t end up liking the person very much. [I don’t know what exactly that says about me, but one day I’ll ask a therapist]. but I liked you immediately, and our discussions soon went from surfacy getting to know you to deep and meaningful and packed full of the good stuff.

we haven’t technically spent a whole lot of time together, but every minute is filled with Jesus and life’s lessons and advice and wisdom. I have watched how you choose live your life – really living it, embracing the changes and the ups and downs gracefully. you are so inspiring to me.

I love your spontaneity, like when I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Nashville with an hour to spare and you drop everything to come hang with me, even just for a few. I love that you made the most out of being young and single and enjoyed your life even when it was so hard to be alone sometimes. I love how you are well aware of your mistakes and have learned from them. i love that you let yourself off the hook too, when it's time.

i love the way you handled your mom's life by loving her and enjoying the short time you had with her. and i love how you handled her death, exemplifying your faith in the belief that God knows what's best for you and your family, and trusting that He gives and takes away. you showed the world that God is still good, even in the hardest circumstances. i know your mom is so proud of the incredible daughter she raised - she and your dad did a great job.

I also love that you know you’ve met the One and that he’s perfect for you…and I love that in a little more than 3 weeks you are going to marry that man. I love that it was important to you for me to be there with you, to witness what will surely be one of the greatest days of your life. it's important to me that i get to be there.

i can't wait to see you walk down that aisle. i can't wait to hear what God's doing with your marriage. i can't wait to live life with you and walk beside you, even miles apart.

love,
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [eight]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the eighth edition - enjoy!

Someday,

the light will shine like a sun through my skin & they will say,

What have you done with your life?

& though there are many moments I think I will remember,

in the end, I will be proud to say,

I was one of us.

- Story People

how many people can say they’re still friends with their friends from high school? I would think not very many. they might keep in touch, but I doubt most of them would choose to spend time together, to make an effort to see each other, talk on the phone, or keep up with the important stuff. i suppose most people run from high school and never look back - i mean, high school sucks, and i wouldn't have survived it without the five of you. i guess that's why i can't - won't - run and never look back.

the transition from high school to early twenties to later twenties (someone please tell me how we are already in our ‘later twenties’) is hard enough, but it’s tough when you don’t exactly know how to look forward instead of backward -- sometimes longingly, sometimes not so longingly. but how do you reconcile moving on and watching other people move on, and STILL loving them through every change? really even liking anyone through every change is hard. there are no answers except the ones we figure out as we learn each other at 17, at 22 at 25, and now in our 27th years.

There are certain dynamics within groups of friends. While each of us have separate relationships, the actual group is one relationship. And ours is just fun, huh? Chaotic and crazy, loud and dramatic, opinionated and serious…fun. From dancing to Gloria Estefan and bachelorette parties at Connections to weddings and babies (5! FIVE BABIES! not to mention the 5! FIVE WEDDINGS), the thing that I remember the most is the laughter. the sitting around celebrating (babies, engagements, weddings, moving to China and then to New York, new homes and more) and just laughing. we are so very blessed to have opportunites – to CREATE opportunites – to laugh together.

it’s been a roller coaster, which is to be expected when you are friends with people for a long time. we’ve had traumatizing things happen to us, we’ve made horrible decisions, we’ve gone through phases together and separately that could have been detrimental. but here we are, 10 years since this all began our junior year of high school. and lo and behold, we still like each other. we still laugh and dance and talk over each other a mile a minute, so fast none of us can even keep up with the conversation. we still support each other. we have good lives, for the most part.

i love that as i'm writing i can say we and us...because i feel like everything that happens to y'all happens to me too. this is why i can rejoice when one of you gets married, and be so excited about your babies (and your children who are no longer babies), and make an effort to come see your homes, and cry with you and for you when something terrible happens. i know that you are rejoicing with me as i celebrate good things in my life and crying with me when life is just hard. i also know that you love me, that you want the best for me, and that you see me in a way i can only hope to see myself someday.

i'm so grateful that i get to be part of an us.

love,
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [seven]

i'm shaking up correspondence tuesday this week.
for the past couple of years, i've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. except this time, they are not all that anonymous, and they live VERY near me. but they are important nonetheless. this is the seventh edition - enjoy!

"if these streets could whisper
if these walls could speak
they would scream out love
they would cry themselves to sleep
they would pray to Jesus
they would sing rock n roll
they would laugh with each other
they would live soul to soul"
- Sean McConnell, If These Walls Could Speak

the last time i was home - the time you came with me - my mom turned to me with tears in her eyes and asked how i got so lucky to find someones [yes, someones] like you. i told her that i don’t believe in luck, but sometimes i look around and i am completely in awe of God’s provision for my life.

to put into words how i feel about four other people is a huge and daunting task. four people, who, in a short year, have had an impact on my life that is almost unfathomable. i hear the question all the time: how do you do it? HOW do you live with four girls? and i always have the same answer: well, it’s hard. but it is so good.

we knew going into this that it wouldn’t always be easy. and it has taken a year to feel comfortable, a year to learn quirks and habits and eccentricities and yes, annoyances too. but really? i would do it all over again - every confrontation, every raised eyebrow, and every closed door - because with all of that comes every joy, every bit of laughter, every prayer, every tear, every moment that i am overwhelmed with the beauty and talent that surrounds me.

living with you is like living with a mirror in front of my face 24 hours a day. i'm sure, for most people, that wouldn’t be fun. and some of the time it’s not, like when i see something that i don’t like (and i'm not talking about my thighs). but my mirrors also see the best in me. they encourage me. they don’t allow me to be self-depreciating. you have shown me things about myself that i never knew. you have taught me to not be so passive. because of you, i feel safe to be angry, to be sad, to be happy….safe to feel, really. and oh! the forgiveness and grace – i didn’t know such grace existed outside of Jesus and my mother.

before you, the words "vulnerability" and "authenticity" and "community" didn’t mean much to me – i mean, i thought i had them down, that i didn’t need to learn how to be these things. i was these things in public; i assumed i was also these things in private. i was wrong. as jon tyson once said in a sermon of his, “the real you is who you are at home.” it’s true. the real me isn’t ‘on’ 24/7 – i need a few minutes of down time when i get home from work. the real me isn’t always an open book – i can be closed off and i tend shut down when i'm overwhelmed. the real me isn’t always respectful or Christ-like. the real me tends to crawl into a (metaphorical) hole when i get sad or depressed. you know all of this, and still you love me. you are silent when i need silence, and you speak when it is time to speak. you crawl into bed with me, under the covers, just to let me know you are there. you sincerely say things like, “i know you love your friends from home, and i know they are good friends. but we love you and want to be that for you too.” you create an environment where it’s possible – and preferable - to live in the light and to confess my short-comings. you raise my standards.

you make this city home.

love,
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [six]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the sixth edition - enjoy!

The other night one of my roommates asked how we met. I started with China, and the meetings, and how excited you were that I was going even though you didn’t even know me. I told her – and I don’t think I’ve ever said this to you – that you filled a role in my life that I didn’t know needed filling. [edit: just like mb] Thank you.

I can invite you anywhere and you will make everyone feel comfortable and important. You’re one of my friends who can handle most every situation well. You can find something in common with anybody. You’re engaging. Your personality is captivating. Your enthusiasm is contagious. You want to be everyone’s friend but not on a surface level – your desire is to really know them. Your honesty is refreshing.

Last year was a hard year for you. You don’t need me to tell you this, you lived it. It was tough. But somehow, you emerged from it another person. Yes, you have wounds. Yes, one day they will be healed. However, the person you’ve grown into is beautiful. Worth the pain? I believe so. It’s part of refinement.

You’re becoming everything you’ve ever rebelled against – rebelling against rebellion! (I’m so proud!) You are a good teacher. You are a loyal friend. You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you. Happiness looks good on you. You’re growing up and choosing to be an adult. You’re taking responsibility for yourself. Fighting your own battles. Making your own decisions, whether good or bad.

I am proud of you. I'm glad you're part of my life.

love,
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [five]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the fifth edition - enjoy!

"Growing up sucks, and most [people] do not live up to your expectations. But there are those times when everything...it all falls together perfectly, and its incredible...it's those moments, no matter how depressingly few and far between, that make growing up worth it.” -Dawson's Creek

We just got off the phone from one of our hour - long conversations – you know, the kind where I have to sit on the bathroom floor with the light out (because light = fan, and fan = I can’t hear you). I don’t know how our conversations can go from Gossip Girl to Dawson’s Creek to [rest]oration to Jesus and back in those sixty minutes, but somehow they do and somehow we keep up.

We also talked about transitions, and how much our lives have changed in the past year, how we are different people now. I guess it’s silly to discuss such things, because we know that change happens. Nothing can stay the same from year to year. Your job changes, your friends change, your opinions change, your feelings change.

But you know how sometimes you are sitting on the porch in the morning sunlight, drinking a great cup of coffee and your heart is overwhelmed with gratitude? And sometimes, this makes your eyes fill up with tears because you know there’s no where else you’d rather be at that exact moment? Those are the times I don’t want to change, the parts of my life that I wish would stay consistent. And I hope that our friendship is a part of my life that will stay consistent throughout each season, cause it’s kinda like sunlight in the morning and a good cup of coffee. Oh yeah, and most of all it makes my heart swell with gratitude.

I’ve told you this before, but you are one of the threads that holds my heart together.

I forget that I haven’t known you forever, that we are new, that as much as I know about you there is still more to be learned. And I’m glad I get to learn you, hear your stories, and figure out how you got to this point in your life. I get to ask questions about your past and future while we encourage each other to focus on the present and to risk it all by staying put. And then I get to share myself because you want to know, you care about my life, and my opinion matters – and isn’t that what everyone wants? To know that they matter? You matter.


love,
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [four]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the fourth edition - enjoy!

Remember our freshman year of high school when God was totally watching us in that Physical Science class (Honors, because we’re smart) and probably laughing because He knew where we would be in 5 years? And how it’s so weird you can “know” someone for years and not really know them until you move to China together and spend 5 difficult but wonderful months of your life with them? Me too. I love our story.

I love how our minds are intertwined and our souls are knit together like Jonathan and David’s [1 Sam 18:1].

I love when I get in the car with you and make a lame attempt at pretending that everything’s great and your questions stop me in my tracks. I love that you can tell when I’m anxious. I love your sense of humor and wit – it’s intelligent wit that not many people possess. It’s unique, like you. I love that you trust me because I realize what a precious gift that is. I love your wisdom and discernment. I love that we share a fascination for all things celebrity/pop culture, including [but of course not limited to] Gossip Girl, The Hills, and Teen Vogue. I love that you enjoy looking at house plans. I love your innate ability to put together outfits [ensembles] that look incredible but no one else would think of them. You’re a fashion inspiration! I love how our perspectives (and opinions) are so similar. I love LOVE your model walk, especially in the pink heels. I love that you think about things before you say them because you know just how important words are. I love your heart for orphaned children and am so honored to share that with you.

I have learned so much from you, so much I would never have known if God didn't place you in my life at the right time. And although we haven't lived in the same city for more than 6 months over the last 4 years, it just keeps getting better. We've always wanted to change the world, and I'd say let's do it, future tense...except we already are, present tense. We're making an impact right where we are as well as to the ends of the earth. There's no one else I'd rather do this with - this changing the world thing is hard stuff but I am so grateful there's a you and a me to do it together.

Thank you for listening, encouraging, asking, inspiring, laughing, talking, knowing, and loving.
I simply adore you.


love,
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [three]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the third edition - enjoy!

i've been trying to put into words how i feel about you since december. when you left, i had every intention of writing to you but i couldn't get the words right, and then it felt too late. i hope it's not too late.

i don't think you realize just how much you are missed. you filled a role in my life that i so desperately needed you to fill, though i would have never admitted it. no, we don't see eye to eye on certain things - i think you're too old fashioned, you think i'm too much of a rebel. but at the same time, you never made me feel stupid for my convictions. you never judged me for my mistakes that were so apparent. you treated me like a friend and one of your children at the same time - not an easy task when you're just now learning to be a friend to your own children. i hope that our relationship makes the transition easier.

i have never really had a mentor before. i like to figure things out on my own and rarely ask for advice because i am too prideful and independent. and, as you know, if there's anything i hate it's for people to tell me what to do. you quickly realized this and handled my stubborn heart with care. even if you didn't agree with me, you were always on my side with your consistent support and encouragement. the few times i let you into the depths of my heart were met with just the right amount of love and laughter - noticeably absent of judgement or condescension. thank you for letting me be vulnerable with you. thank you for letting me cry to you. thank you for helping me to love this city the way you did (do!) and thank you for loving me.

i want you to come back. i want you to sell your house and your stuff and put the rest in a uhaul and move back to me. i want to whine and cry and tell you that WE NEED YOU HERE. but i know that they need you there too, at least for a couple of years, and that you are changing the world right where you are.

i think that might be what i admire most about you - you let God use you to change the world no matter your location or circumstance. you committed your life to being used no matter what. if your willingness to follow Him is your way of advising me subtly without using words, then this time i'll take that advice.

love, elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [two]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the second edition - enjoy!

How have we been friends for 12 years? 15 if you count from the time in the 7th grade on the trip to Williamsburg, VA. I randomly sat down beside you, the new girl, and you taught me how to make friendship bracelets. How are we that old? And I don’t know what I did to become worthy of a friend like you – so kind and gentle, such a beautiful soul.
There are days that I wish I could see the world the way you do – you see through people into the needs of their hearts. You are by far the most compassionate person I know and you do not apologize for your convictions. Other days, I am all too aware of how our He created us to be a team, to walk through life this side of eternity together as ‘soulmate best friends,’ as we have always referred to ourselves.
You know me. You love me. Neither is an easy task but you do it anyway. You’ve talked me down from many a ledge and on occasion reminded me not only who I am, but to Whom I belong.
My favorite parts of life involve you. Centrifuge, writing notes during algebra, dramatic confessions while lifting weights (ha!), drive by foodings, watching the sunrise, “wreck buddies,” teaching preschool, sharing more than one job, spending time at cnc, front porch and back deck conversations, graduation in the hot hot sun, learning to like [and then falling totally in love with!] your family, making t-shirts that made no sense to anyone but us, saving lives due to your super sleuthing skills, driving to Atlanta on a whim and realizing on the way back that we have no music, hoarding food like a squirrel, introducing you to your future husband, o’charley’s potato soup, new year’s eve 2003, sitting on the beach with nothing but a good book and good company, phone calls across the world and then across the country, Passion ’06, U2, the precious week I got to spend with you before your wedding day, then your WEDDING DAY!, your continuous support and encouragement for all of my creative endeavors, staying up ‘til 2 am laughing at who knows what, and most importantly - the stability that your friendship offers...if I had it to do over again, I’d do it all the same.

i take for granted that you know how important you are to me. you are irreplaceable.

love,
elizabeth

correspondence tuesday [one]

for the past couple of years, I've tried to set aside time on tuesdays to write letters or send packages to the important people in my life who don't live near me. i decided to bring it to the blog and write to an anonymous [important] person each tuesday. this is the first edition - enjoy!

The only thing I can think of to say is thank you…for being my friend, for loving me, for knowing how I feel just by the look on my face – and for being sensitive to me. I have just recently realized how rare it is to have friends like you and I am so grateful.
I watched you talk to those broken people like Jesus would have. Just the right amount of compassion, just the right amount of Truth. You were amazing with them. They were all scared. They all had a reason to believe they needed to be tested for HIV and you treated each one of them kindly, as if they were your friend. You spoke gently. You had a terrifying experience in the emergency room of a hospital in New York City and you found the beauty in it.
You pushed aside your personal issues and focused on a job that needed to be done. You missed your family, you hadn't had sleep in a week and you still got everything done perfectly. Everyone who met you told me how great you are and how much they enjoyed you.
I think you are beautiful. You love people the way you want – and deserve – to be loved. I want to be like you when I grow up.

love,
elizabeth