Happy Birthday to an Old (as in length of time, not age!) Friend!

My college roommate is celebrating a birthday today!

I love God's sense of humor sometimes (sometimes ...) -- how He finds such pleasure in pairing individuals who, in some ways, couldn't be more different. And yet "His ways are perfect," for without His humor, I wouldn't have such a true friend in my life.

I will never forget the first moment of our meeting, a scene that highly amuses both of us in our rememberings so many years later. I had spent my first year of college at a small school in the midwest; Jen too spent her first year at another midwestern college, albeit a much larger one. Neither of us felt "at home" in our respective schools, for various reasons, and we both decided to transfer elsewhere. I could only imagine God looking down, laughing, saying, "Oh, yeah! Let's see where this goes!"

By Christmas of that first college year I knew I needed to go to a school closer to home, and Pennsylvania seemed like the perfect choice -- close enough to home to aid my need for security, yet far enough away to slowly and gently foster my shaky, timid independence. I can't quite recall Jen's reasons for deciding on this same school, but I clearly remember the day when I received a letter in the mail from my new school, informing me of my roommate. After that day, we proceeded to write letters to each other, and I -- as I am wont to do -- wrote lengthy epistles, pouring out stories of who I was, what my interests were, my hopes and fears. Little did I know that the impression my new roommate was getting of me was a far, far cry from what she would soon encounter in person. It wasn't that I was giving a false impression -- it certainly was "me," but it was far, far easier to be "me" in writing.

The summer came upon us, and as I worked at a local bank for my summer employment, I continued my letters to her and made preparations for traveling to my new school. The day arrived, we loaded up our blue Chevy station wagon, and my parents and I hit the road. I shed many tears, during that week or so leading up to my departure as well as a bucketful in the car. I was dreading this -- I hate transition, I hate making new friends, I hate uncertainty, I hate being away from the comforts and security of home. I was very shy, I was not yet independent, and the transformation was a very painful one for me -- necessary, yes, but still painful. I would have paid big bucks for my dad to turn the car around and head back home.

We drove through the beautiful town, wound our way through the stately homes nestled on the quiet neighborhood streets, and at last we came to the college. It truly was a breathtaking view, yet none of that was able to penetrate and soothe my shredded soul. I dried my tears as my dad drove up to my new dorm and parked the car. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding, dreading those first steps out on new soil and into a new world.

We decided to find the room first, so we entered the building and walked down to the ground floor. As it turns out (God, are you still laughing up there?) my room was at the very end of the hallway -- a corridor that seemed to stretch on for a mile, with everything Uncertain and Scary waiting for me at the end. Time did indeed seem to stand still as I took each precarious step, passing rooms of hyper, excited girls, passing the shared bathroom, until finally -- finally -- I reached the end. My room. I turned around the corner and then ...

I WAS ATTACKED.

"Oh, my GOSH! It's you! Sue! Oh, hello! I am SO GLAD YOU'RE HERE!"

A strange girl suddenly lunged at me, arms outstretched, a wide beautiful smile lighting up her sincerely friendly face. Her exuberance was electrifying ... yet unfortunately instead of charging me up it had the opposite effect. I was shocked into silence. I backed up against the closet door, my arms outstretched, not to return the hug that coming at me but to brace myself against this onslaught of a beginning friendship, my palms pressed into the fake-wood, leaving an impression from the searing heat of fear that seeped out of my pores.

Who IS this girl? Is this the girl from my letters? The girl I had prayed about, whom God had paired me up with?

I distinctly heard laughter from somewhere.
"This is awesome!" God said. "You just wait, my daughter. I'm giving you a great gift -- you just don't know it yet. But boy, this is funny ..."

Yes, I was scared silly. I looked at my mom, who was smiling, thrilled that her quiet, shy daughter was in the good hands of a confident, radiant girl. I pleaded with my bulging eyes, "Take me home! NOW!" But my mom kept smiling.

Jen's recollections of the situation are equally amusing. Apparently the impression she got from me, in my letters, was of a girl who was outgoing, vivacious, a somewhat big personality. Instead, she saw a girl plastered against a closet door, white as a ghost, eyes wide with shock, mute. She too probably asked those same questions: "Who is this girl?!"

I love that story of our first meeting, 16 (yikes!) years ago. Alas, my fear did not hold me in its sinister grip for long (God might have a sense of humor, but He's also merciful), for that night we sat on our dorm floor together as she pulled out an "ice breaker" kit, many questions to ask each other, some surface and silly, some deeper and meaningful. I believe that's the first time she discovered I was adopted, something I did not divulge (for no other reason than pure oversight) in my letters. From that moment on, our friendship was cemented. Sure, we have had our differences on many fronts -- in some ways we are extremely different. And yet, in other ways, we couldn't be a more perfect pairing. It's a friendship that works for so many reasons, and it's a beautiful thing.

This weekend we were supposed to visit Jen and her family, to celebrate her birthday together, something that we have not done for many years. Aidan, of course, got sick and the trip was canceled. So this is my "birthday note" to Jen, delivered in written form rather than in person. Happy birthday, dear friend, and may you always know what a gift you are to me.

I love God's sense of humor. He couldn't have done a better job.