There are friends and then there are KY Friends

There was a forward going around recently about friends and Kentucky Friends. Basically, it compared friends that cared and Kentucky friends who did more than care, they loved and befriended. I am blessed to have some Kentucky friends. Some of them in my life are from Kentucky (I know – shocking), others are from Ohio, Florida, Iowa, and a myriad of other places.

What makes up a KY friend? It is more than just knowing that your friend is there and showing up occasionally. It is dropping everything, creating a meal, staying up all night, sending twelve texts, plotting with, working with, holding your tongue, sharing your thoughts, and most of all it is being there. The act of just being there – when your heart is broken, when you are dancing in the rain, when your ankle is sprained, when you are on top of the world, when you fall apart at work, when you get a promotion, when the tornado comes ripping through, or when you just are your normal daily self. It isn’t an enchanting friendship, but it’s the webbed strand that holds it all together and still allows for growth, like a hummingbirds nest.

A couple of years ago a tornado really did go through our yard. I came home from a high school reunion in Florida and the world which greeted me upon my return to Iowa had literally been ripped up and tossed about. With my jaw dropped into my shoes, it took only moments for me to be overwhelmed and grateful. Overwhelmed because the trees that were shading the yard were now sprawled across the ground and waiting for the chain saw. Grateful because trees were not on top of the house or through any windows and most importantly no one was hurt.

Many people came to help in the days to follow. Some came and helped with chain saws, others moved wood and helped split it, stacking, piling, clean up – many hands came. Each of these individuals made a difference. One group in particular really made an impact on me. A small caravan from Ohio came with friends and friends of friends. They arrived in the mid-night hour and crashed throughout the house on couches, air mattresses, and the floor. The next morning, after a brief tour to the Mississippi River, they headed out into the yard and worked for hours. It was incredible, they drove eight hours and worked so hard. That evening, over an enormous pot of spaghetti I found myself laughing and was reminded with each bite of the tomato and pasta of the comfort of not the carbs, but the friendship. The next morning, they returned back home and to their respective jobs. I’m not even sure I can describe how overwhelmed I was. When Paul writes about the blessing of praying for his people – I felt that in a new way, I saw it first hand those days. And in the midst of a tornado clean up and an ever growing Strega Nona spaghetti pot, I laughed and laughed, and was so encouraged.

I want to be a KY friend.