When You Pick Up One End of the Stick....

Today, I'm feeling thankful for the blessing of friendship. Among my greatest gifts are the friends in my life. What triggered this sudden burst of appreciation? I suppose it's the outpouring of emotional support I have received lately, as my daughter's wedding comes closer and closer. We are now just 2-1/2 weeks away! Do not misunderstand: I couldn't be happier about this. I actually "called" it back in May when I first met Mathew. Shulamith thought I was a lunatic when I told her I thought they'd be married within a year, but who turned out to be right??? Yeah, that would be me. Moms just know these things. So I am thrilled in absolutely every way. And I am SO excited!

Still...

It's emotional. What can I say? She is, after all, my only daughter. And we are, after all, pretty much best friends. When I think of her upcoming marriage, I am overcome with happiness mixed in with just a little bit of fear. Happiness for the two of them, for their love which is so obvious, for the life they are beginning to plan, for how very good they are together. And then comes the tiniest twinge of fear. Fear of what? I'm not totally sure. Change, perhaps? Here's the thing. I don't "do" change very well. I like consistency, stability, predictability. However, while much of my relationship with my daughter will surely remain the same, some parts will inevitably change. And change they must, as Matt becomes the most important person in her life, her eternal partner, her best friend. Moreover, that change is right and good; it is exactly how life is supposed to progress. I wouldn't want it any other way.

But that doesn't necessarily make it easy, and that leads me to a profound appreciation for my friends. I should point out that my two closest friends have absolutely no idea how it feels to have a daughter getting married. They are both 28 and have children ages 5, 3, and 1. Nevertheless, they are there for me. Lindsey reminds me often that she is there both physically (she lives right across the street) and emotionally any time I need her. Celeste had to move to Texas, but she is always just a text message, email, or phone call away. Both are making every effort to get to Salt Lake City on February 12th, not because they know Shulamith particularly well, but because they know I need them there.

Then there are the two whom I refer to as my "email friends." Lorrie and Patty live in Vancouver, WA and Southern Utah, respectively, so I don't see them often, but our almost daily emails keep us connected in a very real way. It's like these two are supremely present in my life even though I see Lorrie maybe once a year and Patty even less often. Lately, they have offered some most welcome advice as the practical side of this wedding has weighed on my mind. Let me point out that Shulamith and Mathew have been amazing about trying to keep costs down. They have tried to make frugal decisions at every turn. Seriously, they are awesome that way. I am so grateful. Still, no matter how you slice it, hosting two receptions (one in Salt Lake City and one in Billings) and then flying people around so they can attend these receptions is expensive. It just is, and we didn't have much time to prepare. When my anxiety gets the best of me, and I go into "worry" mode, my two email friends are there.

Lorrie keeps assuring me that I won't run out of money and that everything will turn out just fine. She is truly the voice of calm. And Patty reminded me recently that "when you pick up one of a stick, you must pick up the other," thus the title for this blog post. When you begin a large endeavor, like a wedding, you can't always predict how how much will be needed, how much time, how much energy, how much money. But some things need to be done a certain way regardless, and when you pick up one end of the stick, you must pick up the other. So true.

As we come closer to the big day, I am more and more thankful for my friends, for their emotional support, for their encouragement, for their very presence in my life. I'd be lost without them.