Years ago while in Japan, a dear friend and I had babies within weeks of one another. Both were little girls. We would talk daily on the phone and we loved our talks.
One day, mid morning ,the phone rang, I answered in tears. It was my friend Cindy, the one who had a baby girl weeks after we had ours. Hearing my tears, she promptly asked what was going on. Through my tears I told her that all I really wanted was a warm piece of toast, and I hadn’t had one in weeks and I was just about to take a bite of a warm piece of toast when the phone rang. Hiding her laughter, she told me to hang up, have my toast and call when I was done.
I know I have a weird relationship with my toast. I just love to eat it when it is warm out of the toaster, the butter melted and the topping of choice (mostly peanut butter for me) is soft and warm also.
For the past couple of weeks I have been trying to get hold of Cindy. Her health has not been good and I have just needed to hear her voice. To hear her laughter and know in my heart that she is okay. She is a friend who is one of those that we can go months and years without talking and when we hear one another’s voice it is just a continuation of where we left off. The last time we talked we promised that we would talk more often, like we used to in Japan. That was at least three years ago. So, no, we did not keep our promise to one another.
This morning I had texted her husband and tried once to call and left a voice mail. After that I made hubby some toast and then made myself a piece. Again, it was warm, butter melted and peanut butter gooey. It was a great piece of toast. Since I had been thinking of Cindy, I thought of that conversation so long ago and laughed to myself.
Then the phone rang. I answered and we had a great visit on the phone. As typical of when I talk with her, tears streamed down my face. Tears of happiness in hearing her voice, tears of sorrow that we do not live closer to one another, tears of memories that cover so many years and the knowledge that I need to cherish each conversation, each echo of laughter.
Once more we hung up promising each other that we would talk more often. I am hoping to hold up my end of the deal this time. As I walked back into the living room to continue my day, I looked at the end table. There on my plate was a cold, hard piece of toast. I smiled to myself as I ate it. How times have changed for me, a cold piece of toast tastes so much better after a warm conversation.
Proverbs 25:25 says, “Like a cool drink of water when you’re worn out and weary is a letter from a long-lost friend.” This wasn’t a letter, but even better, a conversation.
Thank you my friend for blessing my day. You are loved.
Thanks for stopping by, Cathi (DAF)