After sustaining two major losses in our families, our lives had changed so dramatically. We had to cope with our emotions, feelings and the deep sense of loss we were living with, in both our families now. There were two giant holes in our lives and it affected us and both of our families so deeply, especially our mothers. We did our best to support them in whatever ways we could, mostly by spending time with them. Everyone around me was suffering now and in their own grief and pain. I found myself trying to be there for them, yet, I was struggling so deeply and still had no outlet for my own emotions. I couldn’t possibly burden anyone with my grief, knowing they were all dealing with their own. I was still keeping it all locked up inside, pretending it wasn’t there, yet the pain was palpable every day. I simply didn’t know what to do, how to cope or how to move on. I am not even sure, at this point, I knew what to pray, or how to ask God for help. I had been praying my whole life, from the time I was a little girl, talking to the Lord about all kinds of things in my life, but now, I was speechless and dumbfounded. There was so much I couldn’t come to term with in my Father’s death. I still struggled with why God would take him. It made no sense to me. A minister and man of God, making such a difference in this world. Why? My husband’s Father’s death was somewhat easier for me to process, being he had lived a full life, and almost 20 years more than my own Father. His loss was still devastating, but not so confusing to me. I just didn’t know what to do with all that was swirling around in my head and had no where to sort it all out.
Then, a friend of mine, who lived on the east coast, and I’ve known since childhood, asked to come for a visit. She knew my family well and I looked forward to having her. I thought it would be fun to take her around Beverly Hills and Los Angeles, and show her all the things I had discovered. It would be a great distraction for me. She was sort of a self-professed foodie and was in the business. She had places she wanted to eat and food markets she wanted to visit too. We were both from Minnesota, and grew up in small towns, and our lives had taken us places we never dreamed possible. She was someone I always knew I could be myself with and let my hair down. We had a very comfortable friendship and had kept it going, even from a long-distance, as life took us to opposite ends of the country. When she arrived we ran around town and enjoyed time together, sharing my new digs, all the glamour of Beverly Hills, and lots of good food. It was great to have someone to share my time and my new town with.
One night we stayed up to talk and really catch up on our lives. It all started, as any conversation with a friend would but then suddenly it turned into something so much more. She asked me how I was doing. A simple question, but all of the sudden I felt like I had a safe place to share my true feelings. I opened my heart wide and told her everything I had experienced since my Father’s death. I shared how much pain I was in, how I couldn’t talk to anyone in my family about it, because they were all in their own pain. How my mother had shut-down my tears that day, and how I had been holding it all in since then. How I felt I couldn’t burden my husband because he was working so hard and such long hours. That I had no where to go and no one to talk to about my grief. She sat there with the most compassionate face and a look of care and understanding. She just let me pour my heart out. I have no idea how long I talked for, and how long she listened, but in some ways it felt like forever. She just let me go. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed that. Someone to just listen…listen to my heartache, my pain, my emptiness. It was the greatest gift she could have ever given me. It was the greatest gift I never knew I needed. In the wee hours of the morning when I was finally done she gave me a hug and I thanked her for listening. I remember a distinct feeling of being lighter afterwards. There was a peace in my heart I hadn’t felt for so long. I inhaled deeper than I had in a long time and thought, boy, when was the last time I breathed? A giant weight had been lifted. I was still sad but without all that weight, I felt so much better. My friend had saved me. Her kind, compassionate and caring heart was just what I needed. In the days to come, I realized what had happened was completely a gift of God. He had sent my friend just when He knew I needed it, and allowed her to be there for me in a way that no one else could be. I would forever be grateful for that night and would never forget it. I learned from her, and that experience, that sometimes all we need is someone to hear us, to say; “It’s going to be alright.” Someone to give us hope in our darkness. To simply be heard…and have someone listen - really listen - it can literally save a life. I honestly believe I have carried that experience with me to this day, trying to be aware and be more sensitive if someone needs me to be a listener. We are so eager sometimes to talk, wanting to share our lives with others, but we should be keenly aware when someone needs a listener instead. It is a sacrifice for God that is well worth it and can make a radical difference in someone else’s life, as my friend did for me. What an easy way to show love and kindness….just listen.
Once I had opened that door and crossed that painful bridge, and realized I was still in one piece, I began looking outside myself and around me again. I had run across my neighbor, the elderly woman upstairs, the one that introduced herself when we first moved in. She seemed so kind-hearted and interesting. I was drawn to her. I had been raised to help the widow and the elderly, and knew that it was a Biblical principle that pleased God. I started wondering if she would be someone that would be a special God’s Will in my life. Someone I could be of service to. I wasn’t sure yet. I had an elderly friend in San Diego, when we lived there, and loved being a part of her life. I easily connected with the elderly and had been raised going to nursing homes, as a part of my Father’s ministry. We would sing and dance for them, visiting with them to cheer them up, so it came second nature to me. The lady upstairs had invited me up a couple times and I had declined being I was heading out somewhere or had somewhere to go. One night as I sat in my apartment watching another night of old television shows alone, I had an idea. Why don’t I go upstairs and see what she’s up to. She had told me she was up late at night, like me, so to come up some time if I wanted to. It was almost ten o’clock at night and with my husband asleep, I snuck out the door, up the stairs, and knocked on her door. She answered the door with a big, “Hi” and invited me in. She had a lovely apartment. It was so stylishly decorated, yet it felt very homey. Being she was on the second floor, she had vaulted ceilings, so it felt bigger and more open than ours. The television was on and I noticed immediately a delicious smell in the air. Like a wonderful home-cooked meal. I was surprised she was cooking so late. She said, “I just made a brisket would you like to try some?” I felt unsure of myself, it being my first time at her place and not wanting to seem to eager, so I said, “Oh, I’m not hungry I already ate dinner.” Then feeling kind of silly I revealed the truth and said, “I’ve never had brisket before.” She said, “Really? It’s delicious! Let me fix you a plate.” I wasn’t sure what I was in for, but if it tasted anything like it smelled I was in for a treat. Next thing I knew she was putting out a placemat for me, a fork, knife and napkin, then came this wonderful plate. The smell and warmth of it wafted up into my face and I breathed deep. I couldn’t wait to take a bite. I lifted the fork to my mouth and it just melted on my tongue. Why hadn’t I ever had brisket before? She told me it was a very traditional dish and she had made it for many years. The only thing I could figure is it wasn’t Norwegian or Swedish, so I guess that’s why my mother never made it. She sat across from me and watched me enjoy every bite. She seemed pleased, like a mother watching her child.
We started visiting while I ate. She asked me questions and seemed so interested in me. She had lived in her apartment for over 40 years and knew so much about the building, the comings and goings of it. She knew alot about the area and the surrounding neighborhoods too. She had seen so much over the years. She was just about to turn eighty but seemed so young for her age. She didn’t look it at all, had a great figure and took wonderful care of herself. I was amazed and inspired by her. I felt so at home, safe and welcome. It was like being at grandma’s house in a way. That feeling you get when you walk in. It’s comfortable and feels like a second home. We instantly hit it off. We could have talked all night long. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome but didn’t want to leave either, so after a couple hours I snuck back downstairs, into my own apartment, and felt like I had just enjoyed a secret retreat. I felt so good and my heart was lifted. I really liked her and could talk with her so easily. You ever meet people and feel like you’ve known them forever? That was how I felt. We were instant friends. I couldn’t wait to spend more time with her. I really didn’t have any friends yet in Beverly Hills. I had been so pre-occupied with moving in and getting settled and seven months later my Father passed away, then my Father-in-law passed away. There had been so much chaos. I was flying to and from Minnesota, driving back and forth to San Diego, and hardly had time to be at home. Now, I was just now starting to nestle in to my surroundings and felt like I had found my first friend, and she lived right up the stairs from me. She was so incredibly interesting, stylish and charismatic and I was excited to grow our relationship and learn more about her.
Between my old friend, and my new friend, I suddenly found myself with hope. I had hope that my days could be more than what they had been. That there was still life to be lived, experiences to be had, relationships to be built. In so many ways my life had seemed so dark and I felt like I was walking under a cloud. It seemed like my life could have been over before it had even begun. I knew now, it wasn’t. God had intervened just when He knew I needed it. He saw my pain, my suffering and had not forsaken me. He knew my heart and my grief, my loneliness His Word says He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He saves those that are crushed in spirit. My wounds felt gaping at times, open and sore, sensitive to the touch and my spirit had been crushed in the worst way. I needed help, I needed His healing hand. I was desperate I needed Him to save me. Even though I found it hard to pray and didn’t know what to tell Him…He knew. And just then, He decided to send two angels my way - in the form of an old friend and a new one. He gave me, through both of them, something that made me want to live, something that healed me and breathed new life into me…. the love of a friend.
♥️LGOF