Nancy, Barbara, Audrey, Eileen, Carol, Ruth
We hadn’t all been together since 1971. And, honestly, back then we weren’t all that together. Our friendships as young teen-aged girls were fluid. Some appeared to have evaporated. But a residue of goodwill and lingering love remained strong after almost 40 years.
We hold a joint tenancy in our childhood. A childhood of bobby socks, black patent leather shoes, of fancy hats, pretty dresses and bubbling enthusiasm.
And we love the Lord Jesus Christ.
We were raised by (some of) the pillars of Lombard Gospel Chapel. Our dads and moms were quality men and women who invested themselves in serving people. In a sense they mortgaged themselves to the Lord. Look at the photos and you see ordinary people. But they were beyond extraordinary. Brilliant, creative, hospitable, warm, beautiful, sacrificial, they left a swath behind them of people whose lives were touched hugged forever changed. However, they could also be cranky, remote, hurting, conflicted, angry. We know. We are their daughters.
In July, in the space of 24 hours, we found each other. Emails flew back and forth. It became imperative that we be together under one roof. We were flung across the country; Audrey lived in England but was moving to Albania. It probably won’t work out to get together, but let’s try. Ruth organized details, we bought tickets, Eileen whipped up spreadsheets, Nancy learned to click Reply All (♥ you, Nancy!), and finally we were in the Atlanta airport Atrium adding a link with each arrival. One cabin, six friends, 66 hours.
Eileen’s husband transported us from the airport to their home. Frank made a killer Italian meal (lasagna, chicken escalopes with Marsala, sausages, a Caprese salad, bread, olives and pickles) served on the Desert Rose china Eileen inherited from her mom. A traditional Italian meal is never the food on the table, but the people around it. It was the perfect prelude to our cabin time. We talked and laughed through the meal, mingling memories, laughter and great food.
We had 66 hours. We wanted to structure our time wisely. Enter focus time. Each girlfriend told her story, taking as long as needed. With background sounds of rain falling and birds cawing, one quiet voice was heard. We cried, we laughed, we listened, we took notes. We asked questions, spoke encouraging words. Then the five of us prayed: blessings, thanksgivings and intercessions. We sang old songs in that tight a capella harmony we grew up with. She showed us her pictures. It took at least three hours per person.
We arrived at the reunion ready to be real. Like an onion, we peeled through all the protective layers until the core was visible. One thread that weaved its way through our childhood stories was the importance of appearances. If there were problems in the home, we put on happy faces and pretended there weren’t. At the cabin, there was no pretense. At the end of our weekend we knew each other. Isn’t that one of our deepest longings, to be fully known and completely loved?
We arrived at the reunion ready to be real. Like an onion, we peeled through all the protective layers until the core was visible. One thread that weaved its way through our childhood stories was the importance of appearances. If there were problems in the home, we put on happy faces and pretended there weren’t. At the cabin, there was no pretense. At the end of our weekend we knew each other. Isn’t that one of our deepest longings, to be fully known and completely loved?
After one friend finished her story, the heavy silence of grief blanketed us. We discovered that normal for us included pain. In every case. Cheerful and thankful hearts we have, but hearts that are acquainted with sorrow. We called our time friend therapy.
We ate incredible meals. Each member of the Sisterhood of “In Jesus’ Name Amen, Let’s Dance!” provided a scrumptious meal. Frittata, Chai, Enchiladas, Baked Blueberry French Toast, Cashew Chicken, fantastic salad. We are, after all, our mothers’ daughters and our mothers produced a lifetime of amazing meals.
Here was a gathering of six strong women. Six smart women. Whatever mistakes our parents made, they did something right. A whole lot of somethings right.
It was one of the best weekends of my life. Our expectations were high, but our experience soared. We don’t know why we were given such a gift, such a mercy. It was a catharsis, a cleansing, a completion. It sounds weird for 53-year-old women to say, but as of this weekend our childhood is officially closed. What doesn’t make sense doesn’t make a difference. We are changed. And we belong to each other. It was an epic weekend, a monumentally joyful time, a threshold to heaven.
. This was the first experience I’ve had with Hurston and with Ruby Dee.
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