That's What Friends Are For

So a couple of weekend's ago, I took a little road trip - alone - to Greenville to see my very best friend. We've been friends since high school, when my brother felt compelled to set me up to meet someone he worked with so I wouldn't start a new high school without knowing anyone. I don't care what anyone says, that's just sweet (especially when you factor in a teenage boy).

So we've been friends forever. We are oddly alike, and just as oddly very different. Friendship is great that way. I love how God works all that out so people just gel together.

And my friend was 22 months pregnant, and really wanted me to come, so I went to see her. I don't particularly like to ride for more than 30 minutes, so driving it was quite the challenge. I changed my mind and backed out at least a dozen times. It got to the point that SuperHubby finally just said I should let him know that morning if I was leaving town or not. On top of that, I had to drive ALONE - and I don't like doing anything alone. But, she's my friend, she wanted me there, so I went. And when I got there, I was reminded why you do these things for your freinds.

I got up super-early on a Saturday morning and drove almost 4 hours to meet her a gas station. Apparently it's pretty hard to find her house and she didn't want me to drive around for hours. Nice. So I pull up and she's not there. I figured I could fill up the car and save myself the trouble of doing it the next morning. So I get out and start pumping, wind blowing and air frankly a little chillier than in Charleston. And she pulls up. I go over to her car, lean in to say hi, and the first thing she says to me, before "hey, how was your trip," before anything, is "Wow, your hair looks great."

Now honestly - that goes without saying - but how cool is it of her to mention that before anything else? It's no wonder she's my best friend.

She had her baby last week. Didn't name her after me, even though I campaigned pretty diligently - but she's a beautiful baby, and she's healthy. Compliment me on my hair or name your baby after me? They both speak my love language.