I remember the day I lost my first baby before the first trimester ended. After a long drive from Minnesota, I finally made it to my hometown, and you just happened to be there for a visit, too. I don't remember if I talked to you on the phone, but I'm pretty sure my mom called you for me. You drove over to my house that evening. And we just sat in the living room that used to hold my birthday parties and science projects. I have no idea what you said, but mostly I know we just sat in the quiet, you letting me grieve the way old friends know how to do. I remember tears, but mostly I remember that you were just there. The timing of you and I both being in Illinois at that time was a God-thing amidst the event the felt not at all like a God-thing.
We play a lot more phone tag these days than actual conversations because unfortunately that is just life. I need to do better. You have been such a true friend for over two decades, and for that I am thankful.