What lies between us...

A while ago, Bettina gave me the greatest gift of my life aside from the salvation of the Savior we both share.  In a very dark moment, with tears streaming down my face as I trembled in fear, she spoke some words that shifted my world to a new axis. I have wanted to write about it.  Actually, I have wanted to ask her to write about it for me.  Alas, I have not.  So, again, my fumbling will have to do, knowing that in doing so I will paint the poorer portrait of this gift. Oh, how I wish I had captured the moment right away!

Part of what made me think of her gift was discovering a box in the attic that took me by surprise.  It was with a conflicted heart that I looked upon the contents.  What were they, pray tell?  My hats.  I did not remember that I had them.  I did not remember that I kept them.  In the attic were two boxes that I did not pack in the move, that I had not unpacked in my last move nearly nine years ago.

For all my confusion over the wearing of hats on Easter, I actually do not eschew hats.  I used to wear them all the time.  I had forgotten about these hats.  I wonder if Bettina remembers.  Somewhere is a photo of me at my Master's graduation.  I should scan it and give you all a laugh.  There I was in a Victorian ivory dress and a straw hat with a wide brim and a scarlet bow trailing long ribbons.  About my throat was a smaller ribbon with a tiny rose in the center.  I thought I was the most beautiful graduate that day, dressed in a manner that fit not with the style of the time but with the style of my heart.

I wore hats all the time then and I wore vests.  I had nearly two dozen vests, almost all embroidered.  Over the years, I have let them all go but one.  I wore vests and long skirts and boots and hats.  That is who I was.  That is who I was when I met Bettina.  Finding the hats reminded me that I have not always been as I am now.  Before that morning when she gifted me so, I would have taken comfort in the discovery, thinking that is why she could be a friend to one like me.

That wretched morning when I called her in fear and trembling, Bettina fetched her bible and started reading to me. She started reading to me of Jonathan and David.  She started reading to me of Jonathan and David to share with me that she thought of me, of us, as covenant friends.

Between Jonathan and David was this choice, this commitment, to be friends, this choice to put another's life before one's own.  Between Jonathan and David was safety, trust, vulnerability, steadfastness, honesty, and accountability.  But not merely those words, not merely the shadow of them, but the depth, the fullness of them. 

Until she said that, I had never really put two and two together to see that this was the why of the wonder of her friendship.  Suddenly, it made sense to me.  If she sees us as covenant friends, then the struggle that has shadowed my life would merely be what passes between us as we walk this life together, rather than a final straw I feared would fall.

In this wild and wonderful way, I believed her immediately.  All the doubt and fear I had about the strain I thought my struggle was putting on our friendship was washed away in the Word she read to me.  I could believe her because this was a thing that God had done before.  What He has done He most certainly can do again!  It was not David or Jonathan who were these great people who made their friendship great.  They were flawed, wretched sinners.  It was God who made their friendship great.  Original Sin plagued them just as it plagues us.  But the Holy Spirit rests in us all, working His Word, forgiving us, healing us, restoring us to God through the blood of Christ.

A stillness swept over me then that has remained in a small corner of my mind.  Bettina sees me as her convenant friend!  That explains her utter willingness to walk beside me even when she is afraid herself, overwhelmed with hurt and frustration that she does not know what to do or say.  It explains her love.

My dear friend has worked so very hard in the past year to help me.  More and more, she has relied on the sweet, sweet Gospel, to remind me of my baptism and that which is true.  More and more, she has worked to make small things easier because there are so very many large and difficult things in my life.  More and more, she has shouted, whispered, sung, texted, emailed, chatted, and photographed her love to me.  More and more, she has remained as honest as possible with me, willing to speak even if she knows her words might hurt or distress me.  More and more, she has striven to help me feel safe, even if only in her figurative arms.  My goodness, she should get some sort of award for what she has done even, as she has worked to better serve her husband and her children in the vocations our Lord has given her.  Maybe that's why when she visited the poor woman practically spent the entire visit ensconced in the GREEN chair!

Some time ago, Bettina wrote the most beautiful blog entry about me.  I feel sort of strange linking to it.  Perhaps it is better to simply say that she wrote how being my friend is not a hard thing to do. And she wrote that I am wounded and then asked who wouldn't offer to help.  Such love is in that entry.  What I did not understand then, that I do now, is how much faith was in there, too.

What mercy our Good Shepherd has wrought in the friendship He's crafted between us!  What love!  What forgiveness!  What hope!


Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!