Echos

Saturday evening, after going to a missions dinner, I stayed the night with a long time family friend, who shall from here on out be called, Gem, as she is. I have known Gem and her family since I was 11. Her daughter and I were good friends in Jr and Sr high. Our families have shared holidays, weddings, a myriad of youth outings and youth choir concerts, tears and joys.

11 months before Dale passed away her hubby, Ghost Rider (his handle as a truck driver) passed away. Both our guys had cancer, and though different types, endured some of the same things, and now Gem and I share a common grief. Saturday was the first I had seen her since Ghost Riders memorial.

Walking into Gem's home is like coming home in many ways. She has lived in the same house since I have known her. I have moved an average of every 2 years since I was born. Gem's home has been a constant in my life. I still know her phone number and address by heart. Stepping through the door there was a sense of belonging, of comfort, of feeling as though things would be alright. It felt good.

I got to her home late in the evening, but I had a cup of tea and we went into the family room, which hasn't changed in years, each curled up, she in her chair, me on the couch. Right off the bat she asked, ' so how are you doing?'. I knew what she was asking. She wanted to hear my heart. She wanted to know the hurts and joys of my journey of grieving. Knowing she knew it all herself, I opened my mouth and let it all roll out.

It was so good to speak to one who knew, who understood. It was good to hear her share her heart, and to be able to respond with, 'you too?', 'I know, I feel the same way.' 'The Lord gave me that verse too.' We heard echos of our own thoughts and emotions in each others words. What healing, what conformation to our hearts. I was grateful to know I really wasn't going crazy.

We stayed up till the wee hours of the morning, talking, crying, laughing, and eating ice cream. We finally went to bed around 3am, only to get up four hours later to coffee and scones. We talked, shared, read things we had written, cried and laughed some more. Sometimes it was hard to hear the pain, to re-live it again, yet, in some way it seemed necessary as though it was deemed to be, to help in the healing.

As I started back home, I cried, thanking the Lord for the time with Gem. I didn't feel the lack of sleep, I felt refreshed. I felt as though I was ready for the next leg of the journey. Something has taken place in my heart, still not sure what, but it was needed.

That night, as I crawled under my flannel sheets, beneath my glowing ceiling of stars, I again thanked the Lord for that time with Gem. Tomorrow would be a new day, a new section of the pathway, again trodden, and ready for me. I would be ready for as well.