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Archive for the ‘friendship’ Category


con·fet·ti

  [kuhn-fet-ee for 1; It. kawn-fet-tee for 2]

      plural nounsingular con·fet·to [It. fet-taw]

1. Complete, unadulterated joy. In the form of BabyGirlJuneBug, dance parties, laughing until you cry, best friends, and wine in celebration.

2. The little pieces of life that sing you to sleep when you need a break, a little break from this weary life, and stick in your hair long after the celebration is over.

See also: sparkling magic, fireflies, gratitude, and deep hope
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Sometimes, as much as I want what I want, when I want it, I’ll get a moment of clarity. It usually happens much after the fact. Like, I’ll look back on a situation and think, “Yes, that was right; I didn’t need that. This was much better after all.” But, very rarely, maybe once or twice, it happens amidst something. Before the clear evidence that something is indeed better really takes root.

But, I’m thankful for those moments, present and retrospective. They’re why when I’m babysitting and I say, “You can’t a bag of marshmellows because it isn’t good for you,” that I smile to myself and think, ah, this is why those gross injustices we feel as a child take place. Because often my parents were acting out of knowledge I didn’t have. And I’m thankful for that.

Reconciliation is the same way, I think. I think it looks like God saying, “Ah, but that isn’t good for you.” Unfortunately, God also gives us the option of saying, “I just am going to take the bag of marshmellows anyway, but thanks for the concern.”

I say that because, marshmellows taste better than vegtables.

If for no other reason that we were told to put them away.

Still, God creates this thing for us, this possibility, and he breathes it everywhere. In trees, in sunsets, in old friends’ smiles. He is constantly urging us, pursuing us with it. “Be reconciled,” I imagine he wispers many nights. “Come back.”

And when we do. When we are. He says, “Now reconcile with each other. With the trees. With the sunsets. And most of all with your old friends.”

Oh, were it so easy.

Because, we don’t always come back. To God. Or to each other.

I am reminded of my friend’s words, that not all things are reconciled on this side of heaven. I ache for that hope tonight. I believe in reconciliation. It gives me hope. I am rooted in it. I work at it. Sometimes, I am foolish, stubborn, prideful, but it is apart of me.

Reconciliation is beautiful when we take apart of it.

And life is just so damn hard without it.

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I remember a few years ago talking to a then new, now old friend. We were talking about our lives and what we wanted to do with them. A conversation filled with purpose, that in the coming year, when the world hit me hard, I would forget in more ways than one. But, as we pulled out of the Wal-Mart parking lot, the conversation was alive.

I told said friend that I didn’t know practically what my future would look like, but I knew one thing it would involve. Reconciliation/redemption. I said, “I know you aren’t supposed to have favorite things about God, but if I were to, that would be it. The fact that God doesn’t just save, but restores, redeems, and reconciles.”

And, years of life have past, but I still feel the same way. Just awed that God would go further than saving us.

Still, when it comes to reconciling with other people, I run into a hiccup. I find myself confused as to act in friendships with grace and love and forgiveness, always hoping for reconciliation when I am being hurt. I have struggled with this through many friendships. Sometimes, the result was sticking it out in a place I shouldn’t have. Sometimes it was cutting and run when I shouldn’t have. But, each time, by the grace of God, I learn a little more. Get a little closer to the promise of reconciliation.

Yet, I stand at these crossroads again. I wish I felt confident and wise in action. But, my stomach feels sour and I’m at a bit of a loss. I groan in prayer. Or sometimes I just take to anger.

“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you will never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But, this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t scale back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly – that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”

Somehow, those words of Ms. Lamott, make strong sense to my heart in this time.

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