comfort food from friends

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. -C.S. Lewis

This weekend some neighbors and I said goodbye to a dear friend whose move came on more quickly than any of us anticipated. On Sunday twelve of us gathered to eat comfort food and give Laurie our last big hugs. We all brought our favorite feel-good (READ: insanely rich and delicious) dishes: chicken-only pot pie, spoon bread, mashed potatoes, cheesecake, flourless chocolate cake. (It was so good/bad, I didn't eat a thing for the next 24 hours.) As a going-away gift, we made Laurie a binder of our favorite recipes so she could take a tangible memory of each of us with her. After all the meals these neighborhood friends (and more) have made for each other in both sad and happy times, it was a perfect gift.

Unlike many of us, Laurie is quiet and unassuming. (The "many" of us, clearly, are loud and crazy.) But Laurie is always there for people. She sends notes, she checks in, she shows up, especially when things aren't going well for someone. I know at least one of us would say that she is a Godsend. But I'm not sure she always knew it. On Sunday, a lot of women spoke up (including some of the shiest) to say how much they had been touched by Laurie and how sorry they were that they hadn't spent more time with her.

By chance or, I'll admit, by a design that wasn't my own, I don't have this regret. I got to spend a lot of deep and meaningful time with Laurie. For almost two years, she and I got together once a week, usually on my three-season porch in the wee hours of the morning, to talk about the things that were making us worried, happy, upset, hopeful, you name it. Then - often in just the last 10 minutes we had together - we prayed for each other, our families and our neighborhood. Because I am kind of shy about praying out loud, it's not an arrangement I would have sought out. We started getting together to pray for our neighbor's son Gabe and we just never stopped.

I am not smart enough or selfless enough to handpick the friends who will make the biggest impact in my life. I love the serendipity of being thrown together with a person you might never consciously choose to bond with - and then to discover that you connect with this person in such a soulful way, only God could have arranged it. Laurie is a reminder to me to always strive to look beneath the surface, to embrace something that seems uncomfortable and to spend time with the people you love and admire before you only have one night left to do it. I will always miss those dark mornings on the porch with Laurie. And I will always be so thankful that we had them.