"Friendsick"

Nothing like a homesick camper to take away all hope of restful sleep and bedtime joy for a week.

I've been surprisingly not homesick since the move to WV. I'm sure it's connected to the large number of family celebrations and milestones occurring on a regular basis this summer... I am, however, finding that I am becoming unquenchably "friendsick." Although I am learning to laugh aloud on my own, I miss the entertainment of deep friendship. I miss sitting with a group of women around a coffee table and sharing our rich experiences of life. I miss sitting in The Boy's apartment and laughing at the antics of three twenty-something men. This feeling never sticks around for very long-- a fleeting moment or perhaps a day or so-- but when it does, I find it hard to pick myself up. The busyness of the ministries here have certainly helped to push me forward, but some days I am slow to find motivation.

I've made friends with myself here. I walk the dog every morning at his pace. We stop and smell every nook and cranny for a mile each direction. And then most nights, I grab my weights and head out for a few miles alone or dragging a reluctant pup. I eat healthier here, too. I've made a pact with myself to take better care of my insides. I use my blender more and drink my daily smoothie in a large wine glass. It feels less "hippie" (as The Boy would say) and more self-indulgent that way. I've mastered dry-frying tofu for recipes like Thai Red Curry and Ginger Stir Fry. I've introduced new vegetables to my diet (still no raw tomatoes).

Life is beautiful here. And considering it's only been about a month, my learning curve has been incredible. I have the sneaking suspicion that this "friendsickness" will follow me the rest of my life. But, once more, a new depth has been added to the richness of the "communion of saints" as we gather around the Table. I long for more frequent communion with my brothers and sisters. I know the seminaries push us to introduce weekly communion to our churches, but I also revel in the ache for communion, which continually draws me back to God.

So here I sit at my kitchen table, spinach smoothie in a tall wine glass... friendsick, on the verge of tears, pining to be united with the saints in communion, and clinging to my God.

...clinging to my God. The God of my friends, in whose security rest the saints. I've got the hunch that I'm right where I'm supposed to be.