Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Just Write: And then I saw her face

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I love her even more in person than I do her words.  Words don't do her justice.

For her lyrical words that capture me in poetry and voice of truth, flow out from this woman before me, the one whose deep, dark eyes nearly disappear in smile.  Months ago, I found her, read her, and my heart knew, don't let this one go.  I commented on her blog post and she responded on mine, and it's been back and forth between each others' online homes since.  I never believed an authentic friendship could be nurtured here in this bottomless universe of internet, this space without walls or kitchens or backyards.  Until I met her.

At a writer's conference this past weekend, I didn't know why I was there.  It's taken years to call myself a writer, even longer to call myself an artist, and yet the words still don't roll off my tongue.  But there I was, at my second conference in two years, barely holding it together, and I knew at least this: my friend was here.  She was part of the planning committee, and I really didn't expect any time from her, except a hug and a quick chat.  When she found me eating at a table, her hug told me she was as glad to see me as the beam on her face and the love in her eyes.  Later, she leaned over and whispered, "Can you get away for a little bit after this? I just want to sit with you."  

I just want to sit with you.  It's not often, really, I hear these words.  My throat was swollen and sore, my head full of pressure, my ears aching, my nose plugged up, and normally all I'd want to do is high tail it home and slip into sweats, but all I wanted to do was sit with her, in this sickness, in all the brokenness I came to the conference with, and be known.

She was goofy, exhausted, comfortable, apologetic, and I told her, "Please, I love you like this."  This real flesh-and-blood-sleep-deprived-giddy-in-need-of-a-good-drink you. 

In the pouring rain we drove to a restaurant and ordered steaming bowls of pho and sat laughing over how we fake it with chopsticks.  Almost as soon as our rear ends touched our seats, she fixed me with those sincere eyes and said, "Talk, please.  I want to hear you speak.  Everything, I want to hear everything."  

So I poured it out, to this virtual stranger who so quickly became a sister, without self-consciousness or shame.  My journey this past year.  The brokenness of my life.  She held my words with tear-filled eyes and gave me one of the greatest gifts we can give another soul: she heard me.  She enjoyed me.  She was witness to my story - the mess, the glory, the suffering, the beauty - and there we met, even deeper than the words that have passed between us online or in this booth over dinner.  

But then, glory of glories, she opened her heart and shared a piece of her story with me.  And I sat stunned by the knowledge that we know each other for reasons we couldn't have known beforehand.  Stunned by the love in my heart.

Another friend I know first in her writing and have yet to meet face to face sent this to me - "It is amazing that when we don't have to traipse through all the fluff of face-to-face relationships, all the learning to trust and chit-chat that goes into building that part, and we can just get right down to the heart (which is what comes out in our writing, right?)."  

My heart did a fist pump, yes.  That's just how it is.  And I became a believer.

And I became a believer, again, in this wooden booth at a Vietnamese restaurant in Portland.  

Linking up with Heather





13 comments:

  1. Oh Amber, you speak here of what my soul aches for...that freedom to sit and be known. Tears, just tears. I am so glad that you got to experience this. I love this for you.

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    1. I know, Karmen. I know. I pray you will have what your soul aches for. If ever we meet in person, I hope I can offer you that same kind of freedom to sit and be known. Love to you.

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  2. What a very special experience for both of you. I am so happy for you. It isn't all that often you meet someone like the 2 of you.

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    1. Thank you, Mom - you would love her, I know :-) I'm thankful for these gifts God brings along, packaged in human form. I love you.

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  3. So happy for both of you. What a wonderful day and experience to meet someone that you so connect with.

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  4. I feel like our fingertips touch the screen and at the same moment, somehow, our souls brush, too. I get this with Ashley and with you, Amber, and with others, too. Honored to be mentioned - quoted, even! - here. Love you and so glad that Jesus hugs us thru good listeners and steaming bowls of pho.

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    1. Girl, you have such a way with words, every time :-) I know, I've felt that brush on the other side of the screen, your heart - and others - touching mine, and it's something divine. Thank you for these hugs you've given, friend.

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  5. I knew dear girl that I would love meeting you here too, in this place where the words of your shining heart fall. Before we actually met, I was sitting immediately behind you at the writer's conference, thinking: this girl in this dress, these boots! Something so dear about her! And then, later when i met you alongside my own dear girl Ashley, I knew instantly the two of you were sisters. This is the sort of friendship a mother's heart prays for. You Amber are are that prayer's answer. I couldn't be more thankful. May blessings shower, like a gentle rain, and the sun continue to shine on you both! my heart is full!

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    1. Oh, Ani! You make me smile! I was so honored to meet you, and I meant what I said - I've loved the glimpse of your own beautiful heart I've been privy to in your comments, which are always so profound and lovely - so to meet you alongside Ashley, well, that was a treat. Thank you for welcoming me in. I really do look forward to knowing you and your family more.

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  6. Amber, my precious sister. I am touched and honored and moved by what you write here and how beautifully you captured our time. I will forever remember that meal. I'm a believer, too :) and so grateful that I can sit across the screen from you and know what your voice sounds like and know you through your words and then beyond. You are a treasure in my life. Bless you, friend. I can't wait for the next time face to face - mana y mana. :)

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    1. Ok, I laughed. Again. Mana y mana. Wiping tears from the corners of my eyes, girl. How I love you.

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  7. Glad to hear the conference was a place of deep, abiding, and real connections for you. Our brief connection encouraged me as well. Do be in touch!
    - Jenn Cavanaugh, fellow Seattleite

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    1. Jenn! So happy you found me here - and there, at the conference :-) Our connection encouraged me, too. I hope we can meet again, even if it's more often here, in the places we write. Or perhaps at the artists' group at your church... Bless you, friend.

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