where waves grow sweet

Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you. Psalm 9:10

My friendship with Sarah began at a warehouse in old town Fort Collins. It was where our church met. We were familiar with each other but were each intimidated (if that is the right word) by a certain aspect of the other, and had never really even talked. It did not look like a natural fit for a thriving friendship.

We, and a random collection of other broken Gen X folk, found ourselves in a church program called the River, which gave us safety and direction to dredge up all the dark, scary things in our hearts and get healing. It was intense, to say the least.

So there we were one Saturday, ready to lay our hearts on the table, when asked to partner up with someone for a trust walk. As the leftovers of the group, we hesitantly wandered toward each other. Trust was not exactly what I was feeling. But, after a few niceties, we got on with the serendipitous exercise. Sarah used her voice to flawlessly guide my blindfolded self around the funky sofas and tables scattered on the concrete floor. And I used my voice to guide Sarah down the hall, around the VW bus we used as a coffee station, and to the ‘sanctuary.’ God connected us that day.

A short while later Sarah asked if I wanted to get together each week to pray. I did. So she started coming to my beloved yellow apartment on the corner of Shields and Cunningham; the one with the dead, bare tree I’d dragged up the stairs to adorn my living room. We sat on my red hand-me-down sofa, and prayed. It was so good, lifting up our fears and struggles to the creator of our lives who saw beyond our hurts; a creator who laid for us a foundation more solid than the church’s concrete floor.

I ended up moving back to California and she moved a shorter distance to Longmont, but our friendship has continued to grow over the past decade. Having been introduced through a time of exposure and vulnerability, we have never had to pretend that we have it together. Our conversations are always unedited, real, and extremely honest. We share joys and struggles, encourage and challenge each other, and learn more of who we are in the eyes of God.

The way we first learned to trust each other was significant. After all, most of our friendship has been forged over the phone… trusting the voice on the other side for guidance around hazards and obstacles, and for a clear path to the sanctuary.

I love you Sarah Pomranka, think you are strong and beautiful, and am eternally grateful for your friendship.

A fleeting reunion at Denver International Airport

By the way, Sarah has an honest, intelligent blog you would really enjoy reading. http://spiritualwheaties.blogspot.com/