Her picture sits by my bed in the frame she bought me for my birthday. It says, “A friend loves at all times.” I filled it with a picture of the six of us at a happy time in our lives. It has been by my bedside every night for five years. I pray for the 5 of them every night and always prayed for her.
The mug at she bought me for my birthday waited for me this morning to fill with my coffee. It says, “Friends are God’s way of taking care of us.”
The garden statue she bought me as a housewarming present greets every one of my guests as they enter my home. “Friendship blooms here.”
Every Christmas my tree is filled with homemade ornaments that she has made for us over the years.
She was at the hospital moments after my little Wyatt was born, covering him with kisses and love. He called her Nina. She loved that.
I was at the hospital with her during her surgery while her girl was with my family. I cared for her like she was my family.
We rescued two puppies together and cried the whole way home at the poor condition of those babies.
Her home was the first home Kelsey felt safe staying at.
We went on vacations together. We went to the Mexico on a cruise and told people we were sisters.
She was my first “Survivor” night friend. Every Thursday at my house at 8 pm on CBS. It was serious TV time…no talking!
She was the first one of my friends that Chad loved like a sister. I loved her like one, too.
Chad baptized her daughter at the same time as his own children.
She had a way of making sure that our friendship was special and well-known.
So how do I wrap my mind around the fact that she supposedly felt her life had spiraled so out of control as to do this? What could the Enemy have ever whispered to her that outweighed anything our heavenly Father told her? The battle must have been intense for her. How could that slime ball have won? The song we sang at church on Sunday said, You won’t relent until you have it all, my heart is yours.” My Father never would have relented over her.
How can I make sense of the supposed life taken by her own hands?
You can bet your booty that I will not rest until I know the truth of what seems unfathomable.
This was not her.
Grieving, mad, totally broken Groovy Girl