Holly & Andy – Natural, Spiritual, Conversational

I had the wonderful pleasure of spending a couple of days this Memorial Day weekend with two of my very dear friends, Holly and Andy.  They are, in a word, inspirational.  Spending time with them at their country home is like taking a step out of worldly living and going on a little pastoral adventure, complete with dairy cows and free range chickens.  Their love for God – and one another – is something that should be captured in a Nicholas Sparks novel (or perhaps a Katharine K. McNeill novel, one of these days).

Holly and I grew up together.  My brother and I took piano lessons from her mom, then later she and I took dance classes together.  She and I both had our first point solos during the same recital.  She was the Lilac Fairy and I was the Silver Fairy, both from Sleeping Beauty.  After she stopped dancing to spend more time with her horses, I started spending the night at her house, going riding with her on said horses, and joining her family for the many themed parties they threw. 

I was always intrigued by the differentness of her family.  Holly and her two sisters were home-schooled, they could all sew amazing outfits, play multiple musical instruments, and they could sing like angels.  Their family had rather strict dating rules at which I admittedly scoffed, and they attended a non-denominational church, which was an entirely new experience for me.  I started going to youth group with Holly and this was the first time I ever really experienced praise music.  I was used to my traditional Presbyterian hymns and I found a lot of joy in the freedom of this non-droning style of praise and worship.  (As an adult, I now vacillate between hymns and contemporary Christian.  I believe God loves BOTH forms, as long as your aim in singing is to praise and honor Him.)

The thing that struck me then (and still holds true, to this day) about Holly was how firmly she would stand upon her convictions.  She knew what she believed in and why, and she would defend her beliefs to whomever, whenever the need arose.  Even if that meant she had to defend those beliefs to me, her best friend.

I met my first true boyfriend, Levi, through her.  I was fourteen, and at the time Holly strongly believed that the idea of courting was the proper path toward Christian marriage.  (Courting, of course, is the idea of a guy asking a girl’s father/parents for permission to spend time with her and get to know her with the intention of heading toward marriage.  This is in place of traditional dating, and the intent is similar to the old idea of being betrothed.)  She and I got into MULTIPLE debates/arguments about my relationship with him, and to my recollection, these were our only arguments.  In the end, I only dated Levi for six months, and she eventually had a change of heart about the concept of courting.  And thank goodness, because good old-fashioned boy-likes-girl dating is what led her to Andy.

I’ll not hash out their whole love story, but if you ever meet them, DO ask about it, for it’s lovely and adorable and God-ordained.  Suffice it to say that I had the privilege of standing at the front of the church with them on the day they vowed before God and man to be best friends forever.

In the nearly six years they’ve been married, I have watched these two build a life and a family that seek God’s will first, and they do so with such honesty and candor.  They don’t put on airs for others, but rather they readily admit to the challenges they face as a family who strongly believes in living naturally as God intended.  They own a dairy cow, Little Red, and twice a day Andy puts on his cowboy hat (literally!) and goes out to milk her.  They make all their own dairy products (Adam and Eve didn’t have pasteurization methods!), and she makes all of their bread.  They’re raising free range chickens that will soon add to their resources, and they buy humane, organic beef.  They have a huge garden, of course, and there’s not a drop of sugar in their house, other than what’s found in fresh blueberries, or grapes, or honey (which is what they use to sweeten their organic, French pressed coffee… some of the best I’ve ever had!).  For goodness’ sake, they grind their own wheat!

I’m always so impressed with the way they live, but that actually has less to do with the logistics of their eating habits and child-rearing methods (they have three GORGEOUS kids) than it does with their hearts.  These two friends of mine have the sweetest souls of two people I’ve ever known, and their pure, God-seeking ways never fail to leave me feeling blessed after hanging out with them.

They told me as we were driving home from church on Sunday that what I do (in my job) is such a blessing to so many kids.  They told me that my ministry is giving of my time and talents to my students.  This is something I’ve known for a while, deep down, but it was one of those things I didn’t know I needed to hear until the words were coming out of Andy’s mouth.  Holly said, just after that, “God’s giving you these opportunities NOW to teach and dance because He knows that in the future, at a time after your singleness, you won’t be called to devote yourself to this ministry as whole-heartedly because then you’ll have the ministry of a family that will be your priority.”  Wow, Holly.  Way to hit the nail on the head. J

I believe my favorite part of the weekend spent with them was on Saturday night.  Holly and I got back from her little sister’s dance show around 11:30, and we all wanted a snack.  Andy and I sat in the middle of the hardwood living room floor (just because) and talked about the denominations of our upbringings, as Holly popped a HUGE bowl of all natural white kernel popcorn and topped it with natural homemade melted butter (courtesy of Little Red) and sea salt.  Holly joined us on the floor, and the three of us then proceeded to DEVOUR this deliciousness and have immensely enjoyable conversation for the next hour (though, for the life of me, I can’t remember now specifically what we talked about).  As we said our goodnights, we vowed that we must visit more so we’ll stop staying up talking until 12:30 a.m. every time I’m with them.

I recently wrote a statement about Holly in my journal, and after this weekend (in addition to some other recent visits), I find it to be true of Andy as well.  The reason these two are such Kindred Friends of mine is because they are “vessels of God’s direct conversations here on Earth within my life.”  And I thank God upon each remembrance of them.

KMc 5/30/11

Meggy - When it comes to Best Friends, she takes the cupcake!

Megan and I were destined to be BFFs.  She went to college with my cousin, Jess (about whom I will most certainly write one of these entries), and in their senior year, my friend Rachel and I hung out with the two of them A LOT.  I can't exactly pinpoint a moment or a night when we just clicked (though I think there may have been some yarnwork involved) but the fact of the matter is, we did.  When it came time for Jess to move back home after she graduated, Meggy and I were already rockin' the beginning of a solid kindred friendship.

We were perfect together.  That first bit of time we spent together was like an extended BFF honeymoon.  We ate sushi two, three, four times a week.  We sat on her couch and watched hours of tv while making old lady crafts.  We indulged in Blue Cupcakes at least once a week.  We shared clothes, perfected the art of the high five, and cooked endless meals together.  Our love for each other was so cute it was sickening.

Meggy and I have been BFFs for nearly a year and half now.  Lots of things have changed in our lives over that time.  My crazy guard and teaching schedule combined with her Kickass-Head-Grad-Assistant (that's her official title, in my mind) schedule have not done us any favors this academic year.  At times, I believe, we have both had our moments where we've felt distance and strain in our relationship due to life's happenings.  I hate when life does that, but the nice thing is it makes the reunion outings even that much more fun.

I have three stories I want to share which illustrate why I love Meggy so very much.  These are not arranged chronologically, but instead they've been ordered for greatest written effect.  (You should be feeling intrigue and excitement right now.)

Blue Cupcake
In the spring of 2010, there was a two or three day span when I was just having a rough time.  The kids at work had gone nuts, I was way behind in grading, and I was stressed over multiple life situations.  Meggy knew I was having a time of it,  and we had plans to meet for dinner.  When I sat down in the booth at the restaurant, she produced a plastic container with a Blue Cupcake.  This Blue Cupcake gets initial capitalization because it was one of the most delicious desserts on the face of the planet.  It was delicious because it came from Carolina Cafe at Friendly Center, and it was comprised of amazing vanilla cakey goodness topped with luscious blue icing.  It's heaven in cupcake form.  Meggy knows this.  She knew I was having a bad day.  So she brought me a Blue Cupcake.  Do you see the amazing BFF love in this situation?

Hobby Lobby Reunion
Last summer, Meggy and I went for nearly two months without seeing one another.  In the interim between undergrad and Graduate school, she spent most of her time with her parents in her hometown in western NC, and I spent a lot of time traveling to see friends and family in eastern North Carolina.  In August, on the first night that both of us were back in Greensboro, we planned to meet at our then-favorite sushi restaurant and catch up on some much needed quality time with her couch & tv.  I got there a little early, so I went into Hobby Lobby to look around and wait.  She called me to check my arrival status, and we realized that she was near and that she TOO needed to go to Hobby Lobby.  So it was set.  We would reunite there.  And friends, how we reunited.  We weaved through the aisles and ended up in the middle of the store in a giant, loud, girl-squealing, dropping-purses-on-the-floor, lasting-nearly-two-minutes hug.  There were stares from customers and employees alike, and I'm sure we were a public nuisance.  But I think they could see that this was an important hug.  It was a hug for the books.

The Night She Kept Me From Crumbling Into a Million Pieces
So we all saw it.  I had been hanging on entirely too long to a guy and a relationship that were slowly but ever so surely draining the hope and joy out of my life. The relationship had been precarious at best for about two and a half years, and the demise of it was inevitable.  It REALLY started to groan with the threat of collapse in those last six months.  When I finally made the decision that I wasn't going to do it anymore, Megan was the one I called.  I told her that morning that I was going to call him after work and that I needed her.  We met at her house and I left him a voice message to call me back.  I knew he wouldn't be able to call until he got off work, so to keep me occupied, she took me out for sushi (we like it a lot, if you can't tell).  We talked a little about the situation, but I think she mostly steered me toward other topics.  By the time we got back to her place, I felt a thousand percent sure that I was doing the right thing and I was in capable hands.

He called right as we parked at her complex.  In a calm, only slightly shaky voice, I ended a six-year relationship with a two-minute phone call.  As soon as I hung up, I felt myself fall onto Meggy's lap and just dissolve into sobs.  They were good, solid, healthy sobs and my tears formed a huge wet spot on her jeans.  Megan, a woman who is not a fan of other people's bodily fluids OR of distressing emotional situations, lovingly stroked my hair and allowed me to take my natural course.  When I was done, I sat up, wiped my face quickly and said, "Lets go watch Glee."  At which point she promptly provided me with yarn, Matthew Morrison, her couch, and a Blue Cupcake she had picked up in preparation for the evening.

I wouldn't have survived very well without her that night.  I didn't just end a really long relationship.  That night, I took a big, scary step out of the boat and dared to truly believe that God was going to keep me above the water.  Not just above the water, but walking with Him on top of that tumultuous water that I had feared so long because I knew it would swallow me without Him.  When you make the decision to take a step like that, and you choose to allow yourself the possibility of a better life than you ever thought you deserved, it's a scary frickin' moment.  It's a moment when you need a kindred friend.

So that's why she's my BFF.  I laid alone in a field in Tennessee when I accepted Christ when I was twelve, but Meggy held my hand on the day that God truly saved my life.

KMc 5/15/11

James - The Corey to my Topanga, Without that Whole Being in Love Part...

Many girls have that "best guy friend from home" that seems to have always been there.  You know the one.  He's the brother of one of your childhood girl friends, he dated your best friend, and he's the one you call when you need advice about guys FROM a guy, but without having to call your own brother (because you might not necessarily want to let your own brother in on the specific details of your dating-life).  Wait, you don't have one of those??  I feel sorry for you... 'cause I do.

James and I went to elementary school together.  Well, it was Kindergarten through third grade if you want to get technical, but I'm not splitting hairs here.  When we were five years old and in Mrs. Smith's class together, I spent all of my time with Angela, the prettiest girl in the class, and Jessica, James' twin sister.  In first grade, James and I (along with another girl, Jo) gave a show-and-tell to our class about our different asthma medications.  I think that might've been the first time that I felt a kindred connection with James.  He understood that whole not being able to breathe thing that I've always dealt with, so I was excited about that.


At some point during those next two years, I proceeded to develop a completely healthy elementary school crush on James.  He was one of only two boys that my little group of gal-pals hung out with, and I had already had a crush on the other one from Kindergarten through first grade.  By the time third grade rolled around, we were in the thick of being members of Armstrong's Army... our brilliant third-grade teacher had this fabulous way of bringing us together and literally keeping us in line.  We marched out to recess, stood in line for "inspection," and sang army-like chants on our way to lunch.  We ate it up.  (This actually has nothing to do with reminiscing about James, but when I think of third grade, I think of three things: (1) the moment I'm about to tell you about that I had with him; (2) playing the supporting lead in the class play we produced entitled Fidelia about a young Hispanic girl who learns to play the violin, in which I played the encouraging music teacher [my love of teaching must've started young]; and (3) Armstrong's Army... I still remember her has being one of the prettiest, sweetest, most motivational teachers ever.)

So this pivotal third grade moment with James happened when we were lining up for lunch one day.  Let me preface the story by saying that I was a precocious crusher.  From a young age, I was truly destined to be boy crazy, because I was told every day of my life by both of my parents - but especially my daddy - how beautiful I was, and I watched all the Disney movies that have princesses ending up with princes over and and over and over.  Girls are supposed to swoon over boys.  People are supposed to couple off.  You have to, in order to get to the happily ever after, right?  Well, in my eight-year-old mind, I wasn't going to waste any time.  Thus, it was only natural that I should be in love with the boy that stood on the fringes of our circle, even if our only true connections were his sister, and our shared inability to process oxygen properly. 

As we lined up in the classroom, I whispered (probably in a stage whisper, now that I think about it) to my then BFF, Heather, that I had a crush.  This was big news.  A new crush meant new gossip.  And we severely needed a distraction from the headaches we had just developed over learning our multiplication tables (math is HARD!).  So Heather was properly enthused, and she played her role perfectly.  She giggled and tittered just enough to pique the curiosity of Angela, Jo, and Jessica (James' twin).  Pretty soon, word spread through the lunch line, and word reached James.  Being an eight-year-old boy, he was properly grossed out at the fact that a girl liked him, particularly at the fact that it was KATIE who liked him.  (I haven't yet mentioned the fact that I was in the LOWER end of the "in" crowd for most of my childhood.  I was a little awkward, I loved wearing hats with dresses to school on picture day, and my lisp didn't help me out much, either...)  As this was my first true venture into the dating world, I didn't know the social cues that indicated that I should back off.  Instead of being crushed by his rebuff, I simply threw up the ASL sign for "I love you" which we had just recently learned.  James, bless him, showed more of the proper eight-year-old disgust, and we soon departed for lunch, marching off down the hallway with the illustrious Mrs. Armstrong leading the way.

My crush on James didn't last too much longer after that, mostly because the school year came to a close.  I think the reason it comes to mind as I reflect on the years I've known him is because I realize now that he is the first boy to whom I said, "I love you," even if it WAS in American Sign Language.  I changed schools in fourth grade, and then we went to different middle schools.  James and I reunited in ninth grade geometry class (a class in which he did VERY little talking), but we didn't truly become friends again, I would say, until tenth or eleventh grade.  During our senior year, and the subsequent summer, we spent GOBS of time together, and when I think of those times with him, I think of some of the happiest days of my life.  We laughed at the good ol' days of Armstrong's Army, and we stood in awe of the fact that we'd grown up so very fast and that we were about to head off to college.  One day, while heading back from the cafeteria during our lunch period, I jumped in a giant rain puddle and soaked us both all the way up to our waists.  I laughed until my stomach hurt, but James was outraged:  "NOW WE'RE GOING TO BE WET ALL DAY!!"  I just laughed harder and said something to the effect of, "So what!  It's just water.  Relax a little..."  In my yearbook a few months later he wrote, "Thanks for teaching me how to play in the rain."

We're true, full-blooded adults now.  James owns a house, and we both have fabulous careers.  We've both had substantial relationships that we sought one another's advice about, and we call every few weeks to leave messages for "My Katie!!!" and "My James!!!"  We talk about how good God has been to give us a friendship like this that lasts.

He once told me that when we were little, I was like Topanga from Boy Meets World... I was the strange, eccentric one who always went my own way despite what others thought, and he admired me for that.  In a way, I always thought of him as my Corey, the boy I grew up with.  I know, I know what you're thinking.... sounds like there's deep hidden romantic feelings, right?  But it's not that way.  It's so much more, so much different than that.  He's one of the very few friends in my life that has never let me down.  And I'm so very, very grateful to God to call him one of my Kindred Friends.

KMc