Salt on our tongues. . .

Someone once said, "God puts salt on our tongues that we may thirst for Him. Sometimes it is tears which carry the salt." A single tear finds it’s way down my cheek, I taste the salt and I quickly wipe it away. The lump in my throat is the dam that is stopping up the rushing water and one tiny drop has sprung a leak. But it is dark out and we are walking and I don’t think she notices. A few minutes ago I heard my very own voice ask the dreaded question, “So how are you really doing? Do you feel ready to go?” I listened quietly as we walked the perimeters of our complex and as she talked about the “game of life”, the wine burgundy car that can seat 7, the official closing on their new house and good friends she’ll be reunited with when they finally make their way to Orlando. But it’s here as we walk and talk that the reality of the changes that are to come to our little community and to our friendship are really settling in. This one single tear is just one of many shed as I’ve processed and grieved the loss of their move. Through the last 12 years we’ve shared a lot of things (laughter, tears, celebrations and loss- a lot of memories) although I knew this change was coming, knowing about it has not made it any easier on my heart.

I have been blessed with AMAZING friends . . . she’s not the only friend who is amazing, but over a decade of history between us has matured our friendship and the depth of which we can share reflects the longevity of our friendship too. She's the kind of friend who cares about the heart and can handle hearing unprocessed, unrefined emotions and judges not. She hears what is said and not said both and asks about it and she prays, really prays for the people in her life. Tonight, she slaps a mosquito off of her forearm and we talk a little bit more about babies, and raising kids and ministry in and out of the home and before we know it the mosquitoes are driving us home for the night. She hugs me and we part ways and I say, “The time has gone too fast.” And she thinks I mean the walk tonight, but actually what I meant was the last 12 years. Looking back, the years flew by. We walk our separate ways, her to her family and me to mine and somewhere in between I begin to sniffle and . . . the dam begins to leak.