Present Over Perfect

miracle!
So that friend and I carry some things for one another.
She knows some of the more painful, shameful parts of my
story. I know some of hers. In our little tribe we carry
depression and addiction. We carry parents who drink and
kids who struggle. We carry abortions and divorces and
drug-using loved ones—ones who used to use, who still do,
who we’ve lost because of it. We carry eating disorders and
suicide. One night, one friend whispers into the circle, “I
don’t believe in God anymore.” And we carry that.
Because that’s what friendship is. That’s what it does.
This little tribe may look squeaky clean, maybe like the
kind of people who have no problems, like the kind of
people who’ve only ever been swimming in the shallow
end. But no one only lives in the shallow end. Life upends
us all, and there’s no sparkly exterior that can defend
against disease and loss and cheating spouses. We carry
depression and wounds and broken marriages. We carry
addictions and diseases and scars and loss of faith. We carry
it because that’s what love is. That’s what friendship is.
So I’ll walk into her party, and I’ll hug her tightly, and as
I do, I’ll say a prayer for her dad. I’ll hug him, too, and
maybe he’ll be high or maybe not this time. With him, to be
honest, I can’t always tell.
And if you walked by the party, you might think, I’m not
like them. I have secrets and problems and family members
who embarrass me. I’m afraid, and our secrets are the bad
kind. You’ll see children running around and happy parents,