Maybe it's that we have been friends since she was born. Or maybe that she has been one of the consistent things in my life. Maybe it's that even with our seasons of not talking, we picked back up where we left off. Maybe it's that we are not scared to be honest with one another. I don't know exactly how, but somewhere in the last 23 years my best friend has come to know me pretty well, probably better than I know myself. This was made most evident when on Christmas Eve as we exchanged gifts, she opened the box I gave her that was filled with letters for while I was gone, she smiled and nodded to a pile of letters, wrapped in a bow, that she was giving to me for while I was gone. Sure they weren't exactly the same, the sentiment though? perfectly the same.
With my gift, I gave her an activity, something that would remind her of our own hang outs for when she missed me most. I know that she is active and rarely likes to sit and do nothing, and I hope she stays that way but doesn't forget about our best friend dates, so I made sure she wouldn't. In true Shawna form though she knew what I needed, and I was allowed to open my first letter on Christmas Eve. She knew that 3 weeks before I leave, I was starting to question why I was going, and worrying about leaving everything I am invested in here at "home". Her handwriting is prettier, her thoughts more eloquent, but it is jaw dropping that we have grown to be so close our sentiments were the same. We were going to miss each other and that is okay, it's normal.
I'm not sure she wanted her letters to go public, and I don't want to share it all because it is so personal, but a part of one paragraph hit me so hard, and brought to words some of my feelings that I was having a hard time saying on my own ability. After talking about the tradition we as friends, and our families hold on Christmas Eve she said, "It's tradition. It's what we do. Our families brought us up on traditions because they give us pride in our roots. Your roots are here, in New York, but your branches have the ability to stretch far and wide, and already have. I hope you hold in your heart our traditions - and that for the next year, this monthly letter becomes a new one.
It's true, my roots have been planted here, and they are so strong. They have kept me stable through storms and produced blossoms beyond my imagination. My branches have already stretched far and wide, but that hasn't changed that my roots, my base, it's here in New York. Those roots are full of tradition, of family, friends, church, community and there is no one that will be able to replace those things. But on the other hand my branches need to blossom at this time in my life. There are seasons to life, and some are harder than other, some produce greater harvest, but all seasons are full of learning and appreciation. It has been so great to see the outpouring of love from the people who have built and sustain my roots, and I am so appreciative that they want to see me blossom, that they aren't being selfish in their own needs, rather they are wise beyond their years knowing that God has called me to let my branches grow. I am so lucky to have a best friend, who knows me better than I know myself, who can see what I need, and who can put it into words that I struggle to find. I will always remember where I have come from and where I get to come home to. I will carry those traditions with me, always.
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