The Gift of Presence

The sister of my heart came from Arkansas. She stayed with me for the intense ten days immediately following Robb's death, living closely the horrors of physical grief. She remembers those days in ways I cannot, and she intercedes for me every day from 800 miles away. Speed dial has no need for an area code.

A kindred spirit flew in from Chicago. A sudden heart connection a year ago, a seed of friendsip that instantly took root. A girl who knows, just simply knows.

A lifetime friend came from Minneapolis. Friends since we were twelve, she has known me as a teenager, college girl, engaged bride, newlywed, pregnant mom, new mom, preschool mom, and widow.

This weekend, these far away three joined the six women who live close, those who buy my groceries, clean my house, check on me daily, and never think twice.

She is a rare gift who will fly across the country to simply watch the Food Network, if that's all I have in me.

They loved me. They loved my children. They loved us.

"Tricia, you can rest. We'll be here when you wake up."

"Hey, Tuck? I think you're one cool kid. I'm so glad to see you."

"Tyler, you are one resilient kiddo." "No. I'm not resilient. I am three."

"We know you can't do it yet, Tricia. We didn't come to see Denver. We came to see you."

The gift of presence.

The gift of authentic community.

They came. They are.

I am blessed, loved, humbled, and carried.

***

"It's give and take. Laugh and cry. Carry and be carried. Committed and free. Catch and release. Striving and resting. Loud and silent. Risky and safe. Run and rest. Feed and feast. Screaming out loud and sacred." ~ j. edwards