What does a good friend look like?

I have the best friends in the world.

Let's start with Bebe in Australia. We've been friends since 4th grade. I write her an email, detailing all my complaints -- even the ones that are my own fault -- and she always comes back with a "there, there, you couldn't have possibly known this would happen. Pour yourself a cup of tea, hop into a steamy bubble bath and pamper yourself. Life is hard. You deserve a break!" Bebe has not had an easy life herself. She's faced divorce with strength, courage, and dignity. And infertility with the same. She and her husband now have two adopted boys who are the joy of their lives. One of them has a little too much joy -- ADHD issues make life difficult for him. But Bebe faithfully cares for him -- and me!

Donna is lively and fun. She's full of great advice and tall tales. All true, of course. She keeps me young and happy.

I have some friends through work that are so supportive I sometimes think they're being sarcastic. Then I do a doubletake and say, "No, they really ARE that nice!" I get encouraging emails from them at just the right times. They even talk to one another behind my back and conspire to be encouraging to me! I'm tearing up just thinking about it.  Thanks, John and Wendy -- and Valerie and Kathy and Karen and Carole and Jay and Chris and... and... Wow, the list is quite lengthy!

I was a lousy friend to Laura. I was her maid of honor, then promptly moved to another state and forgot about her. She kept calling and occasionally visited me, but I was preoccupied with my own life -- having babies and raising them. Years later, I discovered her husband had been brutally abusing her. Those calls and visits were pleas for help, but I didn't recognize them. I am ashamed that I took Laura's friendship for granted. She's now coping with her ex-husband's lack of consistency when it comes to child support and raising their two children alone as a working mom. And still, she calls to check on me and make sure I'm doing all right. 

Jean, Jean, and Jeanne...

Where do I begin? The Lord has blessed me with three remarkable friends named Jean. Jean R. is my homeschool guru and a dear friend who always listens with a sympathetic ear. I'll never forget the time I griped and complained to her about what a terrible day I was having, ending with "And how are you?" to which she promptly replied, "I broke my foot." We both burst out laughing. I said, "Why didn't you stop me sooner?!" Then we laughed again. Jean R. keeps me sane. I just love her.

Jean from my writing group is like a mother to me. Seriously. She tells me to stop running around so much and to take care of myself so I'll be able to take care of my family. She reminds me not to sweat the small stuff. Jean's son was killed suddenly. Her husband is blind. She has not had an easy time of it, but she still calls to check on me if she hasn't heard from me in a while. I love Jean.

Jeanne... What can I say about this precious woman? My deepest spiritual issues are always safe within her trusted bosom of secrecy. And her advice is the best. She prays for me, listens for answers, then shares from her heart. I love Jeanne, too!

There are others. Some whose lives I emulate from afar like Elaine Cooper and Ranald Macaulay. They are heroes as well as friends. Jack, Bobby, Carroll, Lisa, and Amber all hold a special place in my heart. We are co-laborers on behalf of a better education for children across the world.

Stacy, Michelle, Lori, Barbara... All my church friends from Virginia... You are the best. Especially Stacy. I can say that because she was also my labor and delivery nurse for two of my four children. Stacy has seen more of me than I'd like to admit! I hope she counts me as one of her close friends, too!

My dearest friend, though, is my husband. I put that man through so much emotionally it is not even repeatable here. It would take up too much space to explain anyway! But Steven is my biggest fan, my most devoted, passionate love, and my closest, intimate friend. I don't  deserve his love. I am sensitive, irritable, outrageous when I should be quiet, and I crumble to mush when someone hurts my feelings. But he is always there to pick up the pieces and put me back together -- even when he is already stressed himself. I recently had the opportunity to look at our relationship more closely while he was away on a business trip. That's when it hit me. Steven loves me the way God does. I am loved -- not because I'm pretty or smart or talented or successful or a good mother or a good housekeeper or a gourmet chef or a fantastic lover -- Steven loves me rather in spite of myself. When I am Lucy Ricardo, he forgives me. When I am Dharma Finkelstein Montgomery (which is OFTEN!) he is amused. When I am Audrey Hepburn as Holly go Lightly, he is compassionate. When I am Emma Peel from The Avengers, he is thrilled. When I am Ann Wilson from Heart, he laughs uproariously. When I am Mother Teresa, he weeps alongside me. He is my dearest friend. 

Yours -- with sugar and spice and everything nice,

Megan Elizabeth