Catching up with Missy

I love Facebook, don’t you?  I have connected with so many people, made new friends, and found old ones.  One day in 2011, I got a friend request from a friend from Christian Day School days, 5th grade, Melissa Shaner.  Missy and I were friends long ago in Michigan City.  Her family only lived in town for a couple years, but during that time Missy was in my class at St. Paul School.

Middle school can be rough.  And I’ll just go out on a limb here and say that being in private school is even probably tougher emotionally. You are a small fish in a small pond.  The whole population of our grade was less than 20 people.  So, that means that you are surrounded by the same handful of friends (or fr-enemies) all day, every day, for your entire school career.

Missy came to St. Paul in about the 5th grade.  She and her brother and sister stayed for a couple years before moving on.  Missy and I were friends.  She was kind and gentle and genuine in a middle school world where not every pre-teen girl is like that probably myself included sometimes.

We had slumber parties, wandered around the mall together, and went roller skating.  Missy lived on the other side of town so it was an effort to get together.  But we had good mothers.  They drove us.  And then she moved away.  And I didn’t.  And life went on.

Something like thirty years later, we connected on the internet.  Missy and I chatted back and forth on Facebook once in awhile and kept up through pictures and cryptic online posts.  One day she posted something and I reached out to her.  We made arrangements to have lunch and get reacquainted.

I watched her walk in to the restaurant a few days later.  She looked exactly the same.  She has a gigantic smile that can brighten up the room.  She is truly beautiful both inside and out and glows with positivity. 

We sat down and started to talk.  Missy told me about herself, her marriage, her divorce, her kids, her job, her family, and her church.  And she asked me questions.  I dumped out my vision for Jamaica, not really sure what to expect.  Missy is one of the first people that was not in my “inner circle” that I told all this craziness to.  She embraced me with open arms.  She got excited, gave me new ideas, and prayed for me.  Wow.  I opened up.  And got accepted.

I thanked her for talking with me and for listening to me share my story.  And then she said something to me that I will probably never forget.  “I love listening to other people’s stories," she said. "Everyone has a story; we all just want someone to hear it.”  It was the first time that I shared my vision.  And yes, I guess I just wanted someone to listen who wouldn’t tell me that it was a stupid idea, think I was totally crazy, or judge me.

Ever since that meeting, when someone starts talking to me, I think of Missy.  Now I try to listen to other people share their stories. And to really hear them. Sometimes I write them down. Sometimes I just listen. Sometimes I pray for people.  And sometimes I ask them to pray for me.  In a very real way, listening is how we connect with each other.

After a couple of hours of sitting in that restaurant, our iced tea was watered down, the check was on the table, and our waitress wanted to go home.  We vowed to keep in touch. And we have.  Missy is one of the first prayer warriors that I go to when I want to shake open the gates of heaven.  And one of the first ones that I celebrate with when something amazing happens.  God knew what a gift He was giving us when He gave us friends, didn’t He?  And Missy is one friend that I think is a pretty amazing gift.