The rain was pounding the pavement and my windshield as Joy and I drove to the airport. “The Portland rains have welcomed me from afar ,” I thought and as I ran thru the airport to catch a plane for which I was terribly late, my heart was beating right out of my chest from not only the effort but from excitement and anticipation. Airports tend to do that to me–even rushing past strangers that are going to the other side of the world, I have this feeling of a common love for the wandering and the searching. I made my flight, thank God, and five hours later I arrived to the smiles and hugs of my dear friend–what a gift to pick up right were we left off, the both of us different yet our friendship the same.
Friendship is a well of gladness, a refreshing pool of love and a comforting bath of sincerity. What a reminder after a year and a half of hard work, living in a city that was so hard to crack, so hard to get real friendships and community, such a loneliness in it all (even as I was literally “living the dream” that I had chased for years). A reminder that friendships like that are a rare gift, a drop of water in a dessert life, and a sight of the goodness of God.