Last weekend marked a ladies to-do. We left our homes and plans—children left to the care of fathers—to gather together with friends both old and new.
We sat around a long table, eating crepes stuffed with cheese and apricot preserves, Nutella and strawberries, plum syrup and freshly whipped cream. We drank rich coffee brought from travels in Dubai and Singapore. We chatted and we remained silent; we laughed and we shed tear; we encouraged one another in life and we encouraged one another in faith.
A few of us even went on a wee adventure to Table Rock. If you’ve no clue as to what I speak, Table Rock is a butte overlooking the city.
I’ve lived here all my life and this was the first time I’ve driven (rather than hiked) to the top. I had to rely on a friend nearly twenty years younger, who hails from California, to get us there. True story.
Anyway, see the yellow car? That’s the road . . .
If you want to call it a road. It’s more of a sandy incline with potholes the size of your head every five inches or so, just to keep things interesting.
Keep in mind, this photo was taken eye level near the top. It drops down from there.
We drove to allow time for a few brave souls to clamber down a bit and boulder climb. I’m sure it comes as no surprise, I was not of that number. I’ve a hard enough time on flat ground, thank you very much. Instead I perched atop the rocks, looked down, snapped a few photos, and otherwise took in a bit of the dessert beauty . . .
You know, anytime I roam about in a wide expanse of God’s creation, I can’t help but think of the first to do so. Can you imagine? Mile after mile of the unknown. Even when they found a place to settle, peril lurked at every turn. They had to give their all, every moment of every day; even then, it was ill-advised to go it alone.
Now that I mention, the same might be said of us. After all, we are traveling our own frontier. We’ve never been here before; there’s no going back.
If we truly want to succeed at this thing called life, it’s best we round up our posse, our tribe—our wagon train, as it were. We need to find those we can learn from and those we can teach; those who will love us for who we are and those who will encourage us to be all the better; those who will dance like a fool alongside us and cry as if the heartbreak were their own; those who will celebrate our victories and mourn our losses.
That doesn’t mean we have to cling to one another 24/7; because, let’s be serious, that’s an introvert’s worst nightmare. It’s my worst nightmare, if you’d care to know.
It simply means we have each other’s back—
To set one another up for success . . .
To be there, in good times and in bad, when we’re “normal,” and when we’re a little weird . . .
To know, whatever comes our way, we’re not in it alone.