Having finished my pilgrimage series, I’m ready to write something about which I don’t have to think too hard. Fortunately, Ethel showed up at my house last week bearing lobster and a big bag full of ridiculous birthday fun. So if you’ve come here today looking for heavy, deep, and real theological profundity, move along. I’ve got nothing for you.
My birthday falls in the summer when, in New England, it is customary to eat lobster. And, because I was raised to observe the dictates of polite society, I play along. It’s not as though I go around making up these rules you know.
Kissing that bad boy goodbye.
It all started with this:
And included a butterfly to hang above my writing desk where it could twirl. It’s yellow, of course, because I have a profound need for yellow in my life. And Ethel knows this about me.
I don’t know how she does it, but she sure seems to know how to bring me joy and make me want to do this–something my friend Sandra calls Snoopy spins:
Glitter-filled baton and twirly skirt, all part of the package.
Perhaps this is a silly post, and maybe we are just a couple of ridiculous old ladies. But let me say this: having a friend who gets me the way Ethel gets me is a profound gift. Because hidden underneath most of the things we do or say, don’t we all just want someone to see us as we are and love us deeply?
And when Ethel displays her deep, knowing kind of friendship for me, it helps me believe that this kind of love is possible too:
O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.
Psalm 139:1-6, ESV