Friends on the Roof

After a week of being snowed in, it was a miracle to make it to church this morning.  Literally, a miracle.  The roads were fine, but my car did not want to move out of its parking spot.  READY. FOR. SUMMER.  Anyhow, it’s lucky that I did make it, because they discussed one of my favorite stories about Jesus, which of course I will now oversimplify for you (whether you’ve heard it before or not).   **Please look at Luke 5 18:25 for the full, perfect story.

There’s a party.  Jesus was there along with all of these hoity toity religious people.  It’s a pretty tough crowd.   A group of friends did not make the invite list, but they really really wanted their friend to meet Jesus… he was paralyzed and they knew that Jesus could heal him if he got the chance to meet him.  So those crazy kids, set on getting their loved friend what he needed, climbed on top of some person’s house and proceeded to cut a hole in the roof to lower their friend into the party.  Jesus’s response was to (a) forgive the paralyzed man of his sins and (b) heal him.  And he said he did both of those life-changing things because of his friends’ faithfulness.  I love it.

Usually when I read that story I think about how I could try to be that kind of friend, but today I was struck with how blessed I am to have that kind of friend.  For a couple of weeks now I’ve been trying to write a post about my best friend, Katie/”Bub.”  Bub is giving birth to a second perfect baby THIS VERY WEEK, and I wanted to give her some encouragement before she takes on that awesome feat.  

For the last 17 years, Bub has always been on the roof with me.  For the first few years, she probably wanted to push me off the roof, because I was a weird little kid.  In the second and third grades, I liked to wear this magenta and green plaid jacket with some fringe on it, and she  wore mismatched socks on purpose.  I knew that those two little souls were destined to be best friends, but she didn’t share my enthusiasm.   I spent countless recess hours trying to get the new girl in our class to learn cheers with me, and once told our third grade teacher that Katie had a crush on her son (leaving out that I did too--every girl in the school did).  She finally consented to being friends after both of our parents were super late picking us up after a field trip, and we bonded while making key chains on the playground.

Then we somehow survived Middle School angst together.  And High School angst together.

Then came college--we survived living together, and me throwing up in her car twice.   

When we were about 19, my body started to do this cute little thing where it randomly shuts down and I pass out.  This would have been a huge thing to tackle on my own, but my little Bub decided to make it her burden, too.  When it first began, there was miscommunication about medical insurance, charges, and overall poor quality of healthcare provided, and my friend on the roof with fire in her belly wrote letters to the then President of the University about it.  Now when I think it’s about to happen again, she usually picks me up from work and lets me sleep it off on her couch.  Last time, I woke up to her 3 year old with a doctor’s kit, saying, “It’s ok, Bubby, I’ll make you all better.”  If anyone’s faithfulness could save me, it would be Katie and the little girl that she and her husband are raising so well.

A couple of years ago, when Avery was just a newborn, Lexington had a major tornado scare.  Bub and her hubby came across town to pick carless me up before heading to a safe shelter.

On days when others fail to do the best job of communicating love, Bub is always there for extra reinforcement.  I get invited to pretty much every holiday event hosted by both her parents and in-laws, and more often than not I’m there, holding hands and singing “Ring Around the Rosie” with fellow grown adults while we walk in a circle around her daughter.  I picked her to be my friend, she picked me to be her family.   

Those are just some of the stories that could go on for pages on pages of the times that she has loved me very well.  I may not have ever been paralyzed, but no matter what need I have—accountability, love that reminds me of Jesus, someone to read Chronicles of Narnia with (at the age of 24), a loan, a safe place, someone to dance in a kitchen with, help with a medical scare, coffee, lentil soup, or a tough love kick in the right direction—I am beyond lucky to have a friend that is going to do whatever is necessary to make sure my needs are met, even when it’s costly or sounds crazy.  

As good as she is at loving me, the thing she does best and the thing I love her most for is being a Mother.  Whether she is teaching her baby girl to build words, clean her room, or run from pretend dinosaurs, I get so much joy watching the girl who used to mismatch her socks on purpose be a Mommy.  Lastly, I will add that true to the biblical allusion, she has literally learned to disassemble and reassemble walls for her family (how COOL is that, right?!).  Avery and Henry are two lucky little ones.  Thank you for being their Mommy!

LOVE YOU, LITTLE LOVEBUB!