And That Is A Tremendous Thing

“I've always wanted to do this in a play,” Lori said laying on her bed, flinging the back of her hand across her forehead. We collapsed onto the plush carpet of her bedroom, laughing uncontrollably until our sides ached and we couldn't catch our breath. Life was so funny and so good.

It was good mostly due to my friends. I am one fifth of the “Halo Gang”, a group of five girls from Lanett, AL. We are from a town of less than 10,000 people, born within 10 months of each other. We grew up in families of two children, three of us had older sisters, two had brothers, only one of us is the oldest. Our families knew each other and had similar values. They sent their kids to public school and regularly attended church. 

Senior Year Beauty Pageant, I should be on the back row in my dance costume!

I've known two of the gang since kindergarten, one since second grade and our newcomer since third. Oh! The things I could tell you about these women.

We laughed and studied together, stayed up way too late and called each other way too early. We competed over grades and who had the cutest shoes. We saw each other through clingy boyfriends and bad skin, through moving from house to house and applying for college. We had birthday breakfasts at McDonald's before school and dinner at the Mexican place after our weddings, asking each other questions and talking about things that should not be talked about in public; laughing through all of it.

We let ourselves into each other's homes and helped each other get ready for the prom. We told each other when our outfits were getting weird and borrowed clothes so often we forgot what actually belonged to us.

Four of us played saxophone in band and three of us were majorettes. We knew that one of us had a “problem area” in her hair by her left ear and one inexplicably used hot rollers on her curls. One of us is the Baptist preacher's daughter and one's dad owned the local hardware store. One had the most beautiful, straight teeth, but had to wear braces because of jaw problems. One got to wear a crown for a whole day at Vacation Bible School for bringing the most visitors and one was maid of honor in her older sister's wedding when we were in fourth grade.

Four of us homeschooled our children at some point, two of us were missionaries, all of us are married. One has moved all over the country, one has always lived within 30 minutes of her childhood home. Three of us have worked in education, two of us in health and wellness. Four of us finished college, one has shown the rest of us what tenacity and determination, sticking up for yourself and your family truly look like. 

Senior Band Concert

I've learned life lessons from these ladies I never would have learned anywhere else. They are four of the best people I know. One lived with my family off and on in high school and was my roommate for two years of college. She knows who's clothes I have on in high school pictures when I can't remember myself. Another lets me call to talk about deep, dark stuff I'm not sure anyone else would understand and she shares her deep, dark stuff with me. One held me in the parking lot of the hospital where my daddy lay dying. I thought I would collapse with the pain of it all and she held the burden with me. Another sent a huge plant to Daddy's funeral, that I've managed, only by the grace of God, to keep alive for ten years. Years earlier we bought our first denim miniskirts together.

These women saw me through all my major, early life events: crushes, bad driving, first boyfriend, and finding the right shade of lipstick. We faced insecurities together when our dads lost jobs and siblings graduated and left home and tender, romantic feelings weren't reciprocated. I trusted them with my hurts and bad decisions. They shaped the kind of friend I became and the kind of woman I'm still becoming. They exerted a beautiful positive peer pressure. They provided a safe place for me to land, be myself, grow and grow up.

The thing about having a group of friends like this is that you're really known by them. They know the embarrassing stuff, but they also know my triumphs. They know what I wish I could forget and that gives them a certain power. But, it's power a loving friend holds gently.

Though I wish I talked with each of these ladies once a week, I don't. I wish they lived on my street and I ran into them in the grocery store. I wish they sat behind me in church and our kids played on the same football team. There have been years where I haven't greeted them face to face and sometimes it's been that long since I've heard their voices. But, even so, I still consider them my dear, dear friends.

I desperately want and pray for friends like that for my own children. I don't know if they've felt that kind of friendship and I don't know if they ever will. But, I still pray for them to have their own “Halo Gang”, a group of friends who will love them and point them in the right direction. A group of friends who will laugh, years later, at that Coke you spewed out of your nose or what you said when your high school boyfriend said, “I love you” for the first time.

I'm thankful I grew up in Lanett, AL and that my parents decided to send me to Lanett City Schools. I'm thankful for these four women. They are priceless. They are so much alike and so very different. They're beautiful and determined. They work hard and love their families. They are amazing and I've been blessed to have them in my life for at least 30 years. 

                           While I'm not crazy about this picture of myself, it so perfectly sums up our friendship, it had to make an appearance.  Thanks Laura Adams!

So, here's to you, Halo Gang. Thank you, for sharing who you were at 16 and who you are now. Thank you for helping me become the the grown up version of myself, for loving me when I talked too loud and too long about ballet and Campus Life. Thank you for trusting me with your secrets and keeping mine. Thank you most of all for being a real life picture of what I pray for my boys, minus the lipstick and cute shoes.

You've done so much for me, I don't think I could ever adequately explain it, and I'll never, ever be able to repay you.

“Why did you do all this for me?” he asked. “I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.” “You have been my friend,” replied Charlotte. “That in itself is a tremendous thing.”

- E.B. White, Charlotte's Web