" because friends are friends forever,
if the Lord, is Lord of them,
and a friend will not say never,
'cause the welcome will not end..
though it's hard to let you go,
in the Father's hands we know,
that a lifetime's not too long
to live as friends."
This is the second time God sent Jen to me. The first time was in 1994. We had just moved across the country to Texas. Like this move, it had come after many years in one place and was a huge transition. I got a call from my neighbor back in Ohio shortly after we arrived. She said she had another friend who had moved there and I had to meet her. "Really, Kim, call her."
So I did.
And so began a friendship that would eventually cover several continents, a couple decades, and nine more babies between us.
We had not planned on coming here. She had not expected to be here when we did. But the stars aligned somehow (we know how!) and their assignment was delayed just a bit. Ours moved up just a bit. And it happened again, this gift of friendship brought together in one place. Enough time to catch up, reconnect and introduce our kids. We have spent the past month in and out of each other's homes just like in the old days. But the time came once again and she is winging her way across the Atlantic this afternoon.
My friend Linda said years ago, "God doesn't want us all bunched up together in one place. I know that is His plan. He wants to spread us out and show His love all over." She told me this as she was moving her family and I really argued with God over that arrangement. But she was right, and God doesn't want Jen's light hidden under a basket either. I get that. I was good with it.
I was good with it last month knowing it was coming. I was even good with it at dinner Thursday. It was her last words to our new mutual friends that made me cry,
"Take care of the Fry's!"
Because I know that was what was on her mind when she had plenty else to think of. And I love her for that.
God go with you to the Pacific, dear friend. We are good. : )

Oh man! Now I’m crying!!
What a special time.
Love the photo montage, love the photos of the girls, hate the photo of me like you knew I would–but that is what I look like after a week of moving–bad hair, tired, sweaty. urgh.