Wisconsin Road by Jayne Gulbrand
I have a friend in Wisconsin. To call her a friend grossly understates what she has come to mean to me. Although our work while I lived there brought us together for only brief periods of time, and I loved her attitude during my Justice Circles (in fact her dedication led her to be the first one I’d call whenever I scheduled one), it has been her support over the Internet since I left Wisconsin that has led me to care so deeply for her.
Can you tell which foot belongs to the "grownup"?
She is married with a myriad of kids and step kids, but she is almost as devoted to the children she encounters in her position as a middle school guidance counselor. It is her calling, and the children she works with are “her kids” in a very real sense. She cares about each and every one of them as though they were her own.
During my recent illnesses I have been through some very tough times; pain, depression, sadness, hopelessness. And I write to her, primarily to vent my frustration. But whereas most other people would read my words and say “Oh, Woodpecker’s depressed again” and send a brief pick me up, this woman has shared her life with me and given me countless hours of her time to focus me on the positive things in my life. She has become the “holder of my hope” (her words). How many of us would take the time to do that, especially if we were happily married and emailing someone who was just a casual friend while living in the same city? I am not her Internet “intrigue,” although I pay her compliment after compliment; I’m just a friend her faith tells her to reach out to as a voice crying in the wilderness. She has that kind of heart and soul.
If you met her you’d love her, that is her way. And if I could choose when I die and who my pallbearers (or dust bearers) would be, she would be right at the front of the procession.
Sometimes we get jaded about the internet and the constant barrage of dating sites. But I’m here to tell you that it is a wonderful thing for friends who barely knew each other, when they reach out in times of need and find golden gems like my friend, who shall remain nameless for her privacy. God bless her, and God bless you. She seems to think I can help other people when I recover from my physical problems, and if she’s any example I will “pay it forward” as she has, in a way that I hope will make her proud. I wish my school counselor had had half the ability and compassion that she has. And love for new friends, however distant. I love you, my friend who knows who she is, as a devoted friend to you, in all the right ways and for all the right reasons. She deserves a hug or three as I sign off. Would that half the rest of the world had more people like my dear, dear friend.
~Woodpecker
Woodpecker Writes 