I collect people. (Not like bobbleheads, but wouldn’t that be fun? A bobblehead collection of all my people!) From babies to grandparents, I love connecting with people. Unafraid to ask questions, people share their thoughts with me, and I share myself with others. I am forever amazed at the variety bubbling out of people, and I enjoy keeping up with people over years. 

There are more friends than I deserve who know me deeply. These faithful friends who gather around my metaphorical table are treasures. 

Today, I’m a little bit basking in the glow of these relationships, thanking and celebrating these women in my life.

They receive the panicked texts of difficult parenting,

endure my 15-minute voxes and say “Same,”

snap photos of the beach we should go to,

send links of their high schooler’s live sports competition,

forward a post and say, “Praying for you,”

have the hard, uncomfortable conversations,

talk fast and listen well,

forgive,

help me decide my new hair,

fight for our relationship,

confront,

ask how I am—for real,

challenge my thinking,

stay up over fires until sunrise,

see the good in me I do not see,

laugh with me and at me,

recommend the best book they’re reading,

talk me down off ledges,

tease out issues,

send pictures of their hurting face after the dentist, 

ask me for help,

text “What is this?” pictures, 

advise,

understand a good gif is my love language,

build me up when life is crumbling,

applaud louder and longer than anyone else,

and know the song in my heart and sing it back to me I’ve forgotten.

My sisters who could never fit into a word count of 300.