Call It What You Want...

It's my friend A's birthday this week, and so in my own blabbery little way, I am going to write about her.

I met her in college. She and I didn't exactly hit it off. In fact, there were a lot of times throughout those years that I rather intentionally pushed her buttons just to get a reaction. (I've confessed that to her. I think we're good.) And there were more than a few times that I thought she was way off base, and what was *I* going to do about it? What I didn't realize/acknowledge then was that not everyone had to think just like me all the time. There were the times that I thought I should "set her straight" on something, when I got the message from Above, loud and clear -- "NO". That didn't always fix things, or set ME straight, but there were a few times when it slowed me down a little.

She met a man. She married him. She calls him her "fairy tale". He was someone we all knew from college, someone I was in classes with from my freshman year on. (He hed a goofy sense of humor, and he almost always did the reading and almost never skipped, which was good when it was just the two of us and one other person in a class together). When he passed away, my heart ached, especially for her. She'd been through God-only-knows-what in her life -- I just knew it hadn't been easy -- and the love of this man made her different -- happy, confident, strong. She could've crawled back into that old shell, the one with the false smile and wall a thousand feet thick. She could've listened to those thoughtless people who made pronouncements they had no business making. But she wasn't going to do that. She was going to live, and to grow.  

She continued her education -- something I suspect she'll always do. She moved to a new town, near a woman who'd been a friend to her and her husband. She took the time to take a trip to Nashville, Tennessee, just so I didn't have to drive alone when my mother was in the hospital. Just a trip down and back (all those hours in the car), and all she could do was wander the campus of Vanderbilt University. (Such a punishment for a person who loves academia, but still...) That, and encourage me to call a friend I'd lost touch with who lived in Nashville. (I felt very vulnerable admitting to her I was afraid to make the call. She didn't even laugh at me, even though a fear like that is out-of-character for the person I try to be.)

She threw herself a 30th birthday party, and I was happy to go. We got to meet some of her friends, including M, her mentor and dearest friend. As M was leaving the gathering, I took a second and told her how much it meant to us to know that A had her as a friend. I knew M was very ill. Later, a co-worker (who also knew M ... it is a small world) informed me she was terminal. I guess I'd realized that, but I didn't want it to be, because of A. When the co-worker left me a note in my mailbox the day M passed away, I cried, not so much for M, who'd led a full and wonderful life, but for A. Again? But she continues on. I have wanted to do more, to "fix" things for her, but she keeps her head up.

She moved again, further away, where it's not easy to see her. She sent Mark a present when he was a baby -- something smart and educational, of course (and which he loves and still plays with). She works, she tries to make friends in a less-than-friendly city, she talks about moving back, she takes a job that isn't always fun and works to make it better -- not just for herself, but for others.

A has gone from someone I worked to irritate to an inspiration. She has a strength of character that perseveres no matter what. No one can tell her she's not worth the universe, because she is. (And there are those who try.) There is an amazing spirit and an incridible purpose in her life. She has a love for learning and a fierce independence, along with the normal desire for friends and a place to fit in and feel loved.

And so, A, before you get all embarrassed and make me take this down, I want you to know I admire you and love you and realize that sometimes we can be blind and miss out on incredible people, but I'm glad that I eventually did get to know you and stopped being an opinionated butthead (at least to you) because you're a truly wonderful person. Happy Birthday.