"Crumb"-y two-pillow pals

After church yesterday, my family attended a farewell potluck banquet for our friend, and church secretary, Amy T. We listened as speaker after speaker approached the microphone and fought through emotion-packed tributes. Had a fire started during the program, the sprinkler system would have been unnecessary. At one point, Savannah poked me and hissed, "She's not dying, for pete's sake. She's just going to Texas!" True. While I did not succumb to ready weeping, I will, without a doubt, miss my friend. Although she is MUCH older than me, we grew up in the same small town and after graduation, went our separate ways. When my family began attending the church where we currently worship, I was surprised to see Amy serving as the organization's secretary. It was an unsettling re-introduction as two adult Christian women eyed each other up, recognizing that both held childhood stories from our shared past that neither one of wanted to re-visit. It was with this monumental step of unspoken trust that we truly began our friendship.

Ours is an easy friendship of laughter, teasing and jokes. Amy and I have served together on several short-term missions trips, each more hilariously traumatic than the last. I began my marriage as a military wife and Brad's subsequent jobs had him away from home regularly so I had trouble relating to Amy's angst over being away from her home and husband. These trips were definitely outside of her comfort zone and, while I outwardly made fun of her, I inwardly admired her commitment and sacrifice in service to the Lord. The trials we endured...it pains me to even write about it now.

It was Waynesville, North Caroline. Or was it Waynesburg? Or Waynesborough? Whatever. We were leading a youth team in revitalizing a church which consisted of Amy T painting, Amy T scrubbing, Amy T sweeping, and Amy T organizing while Amy M ate pizza and oversaw the creation of a giant cross mural on an outside wall. "Maybe we should have sketched the dimensions first," I remarked, taking another bite of pizza and observing the misshapen, lumpy letter "X"  adorning our "revitalization" project. After a long hard day of strenuous labor, we lovingly tucked our teens in and retired to our modest quarters. Now, as Savannah would report it, she would have you believe that fifteen teen girls were left laying on a hard cement floor with threadbare blankets while Amy and I were outfitted with the queen's quarters. Nonsense. What comes next is the actual transcribed conversation recorded from our shared pioneer-like trundle bed.

Amy T:  What's the matter with you! Settle down! Why are you thrashing around like that?

Amy M: Where did these people pick up their hosting skills from? Prison? I only have one pillow! You know I'm a two-pillow person!

Amy T: Oh my goodness! Really?!? Would you just get over yourself! You don't see me complaining and I'm laying on a crumb-coated mattress! 

Amy M: (feeling around) There do seem to be more than your average amount of crumbs in here. Wait...how do you know they're crumbs?

Silence penetrating a dark room somewhere in Wayne City, North Carolina and then screams pierce the air as two women scramble from their bed. 

Having never viewed "Deliverance" in its entirety,  we also agreed to accompany the group on a tubing adventure. Our pastor got bogged down when he insisted on being encased in a lifejacket and we didn't see him again from several days. One of our cherubs was a little needier than we would have preferred...if the world is going to revolve around anyone other than Jesus, Amy and I agreed, it would be us...and when her unreasonable demands could no longer be met, Amy T, her rear in an unextractable state, wedged underwater, within a rubber tire, her perfectly-pedicured toes wiggling skyward, memorably yelled, "Leave her there," as I was trudging upstream to rescue the child for the fiftieth time.  It's the Lord's work, but someone has to do it.

While everyone else bought thoughtful, meaningful presents,
I was busy fabric-painting two complaining cartoon
women on travel-sized pillows.

So my friend, the homebody, is pulling up firmly-established roots, packing her forty pounds of hair products and moving to Texas. I am so proud of her. She is led by love and loyalty and faith. It all comes back to trust. Like two friends who have to trust that the other will keep her secrets (unless they could be sold for a sizable profit whereupon we would split the money), Amy trusts in God's plan for her and her family. Plus I'm excited because I've never been to Texas and I guarantee that, when I visit her, Amy will make sure that my bed is crumb-free and outfitted with two pillows!