A couple of days after the 50-something-year-old photo of Daddy and I arrived via email, I received a friend request on Facebook from someone I haven't heard from in ... well, honestly, I'm not sure how long it's been since I heard from this lady. I do know, however, that I haven't seen her in person for close to 40 years. I recognized her name the minute I clicked on the request ... she was my piano teacher, and her husband was the pastor of the little Baptist church we attended when I was growing up. My mind flooded with memories as I accepted her request and began looking at the photos on her page ... I remember babysitting her sons ... geez, I really am old. She sent me a lengthy message filling me in on the events of her life over the past years, some happy and some sad. I can't even begin to tell you how much this dear woman influenced me as a teenager ... she was wise beyond her years, kind to a fault, loving and compassionate to everyone she met, and one heck of a great musician. I was beyond shocked to hear from her after all these years ... it's crazy, but in a way, her reaching out to me couldn't have come at a better time. I'm not sure why, but it sort of feels like coming home ... I can't explain it or rationalize it or understand it, but it really does feel like coming home.
Last Thursday was one of "those" days for me ... just a cruddy day all the way around from the time I opened my eyes that morning until I climbed into bed that night. By the time 5:30 rolled around, all I wanted to do was go home, gulp down some dinner and take Ollie the wiener dog for a long walk. Considering the cruddiness of my day up to that point, it shouldn't have surprised me at all that there were three accidents on the interstate on my drive home which caused bumper-to-bumper traffic for my entire commute ... lovely, just lovely. It was almost two hours later when Ollie and I finally headed out to walk, and by then my mood was even worse than it had been when I woke up. I was deep in thought as I stepped on the second wooden bridge Ollie and I cross as we walk on the trail, and I thought I heard someone call my name. I looked in both directions and didn't see anyone, so I tugged on Ollie's leash and said, "Well, that's just great, Ollie boy ... now I'm hearing voices."
I was about halfway across the bridge when I most definitely heard someone shout, "Terrie!! I'm down here ... I'm in the creek!" I peered over the railing and saw two teenage girls wading in the water, and one of them was waving furiously at me. I didn't recognize either of the girls, so I shouted down to the one who was waving, "Who are you?" She was already out of the creek and running up the hill toward me when she told me who she was ... and I was already fighting back the tears as she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. It's been more than two years since I've seen her ... two long years of hurt and regret because I didn't get to say goodbye to her or the other kids at church ... two long years of wondering what she and the others had been told was the reason for my departure ... two long years of missing my young friend and her family. It was good to see her again, but it was hard at the same time ... I loved that kiddo like one of my own children, and words can't begin to communicate how much I miss her.
The photo of my dad and I generated a lot of comments and messages when I posted it on Facebook, including one from my friend Jenne. My eyes immediately filled with tears when I read her words, but it wasn't until I received the unexpected friend request and had the random encounter with my young friend that I understood just how deep and meaningful Jenne's comment really was.
"Oh girl. Do you see? You are loved."
When I looked at that old photo of Daddy and me, the first thing I noticed was the serious expression on my 3-year-old face. When Jenne looked at that old photo, she saw the love in Daddy's eyes as he looked at me and the love in his hands as he held me safely in his arms. I looked at that photo and wondered what thoughts were going through my mind ... Jenne looked at that photo and marveled at the love that was flowing through my dad's heart.
"Oh girl. Do you see? You are loved."
When I clicked on the friend request from the pastor's wife from my teenage years, my first thought was, "She doesn't know about me ... she wouldn't have sent me a friend request if she knew about me." I have no idea if she knows, but I do know this ... at some point in my life, she loved me. For her to want to reconnect with me means she was thinking of me ... it means she remembers me ... it means there was a time when she loved me as if I were part of her own family ... it means she once loved me enough to search for me and reach out to me after all these years.
"Oh girl. Do you see? You are loved."
When my young friend told me who she was and hugged me tightly, the first thought that exploded into my mind was, "Does she know? What did they tell her when I left? Will she judge me? Does she hate me?" The first thing she said last Thursday evening when she wrapped her arms around my neck was, "I miss you so much, Terrie." There was a time when that sweet kiddo was like my shadow ... there was a time when she was like one of my own children ... there was a time when she loved me to pieces. For her to call out my name ... for her to hug me again and again ... for her to listen as I apologized for not telling her goodbye ... for her to want to talk to me ... there was indeed a time when that precious little girl loved me.
There's not a doubt in my mind that Jenne's comment was about so much more than the decades-old photo of my dad and I ... not one single tiny shred of doubt in my mind, friends ... not one.
"Oh girl. Do you see? You are loved."
No comments:
Post a Comment