Time Traveling

"I'll just tell you what I remember because memory is as close as I've gotten to building my own time machine." ~ Samantha Hunt in The Invention of Everything Else


I have driven the trek to the Twin Cities a number of times in my life. I was 20 when I moved there to study ASL-English interpretation, thirty years ago this September. One of the youngest in a class of 30 students, I met women who would change me forever. Four of those women remain in my life today and we will gather to celebrate our friendship tomorrow night.
As I started the journey today, I had plenty of time to think and to still my soul. I have not had much as much quiet time as normal this summer.

The trip down was more or less uneventful with a minor incident at the border. The customs agent flipped through my passport and I saw her linger on a page, prior to asking me, “Why were you in Kenya? ” “Ack! She thinks I am a terrorist,” I thought. Sure enough, rather than wave me on, she asked me to pull up to bay 3. Sigh.

There I was asked a string of intriguing questions when I was asked to step out of the car. Did I have any weapons on board? I must have looked like a deer in the headlights. “Guns, knives??” No, I did not. Then the most interesting question of all: When was the last time I was fingerprinted, charged with a crime, or arrested? Really?? That was quite an assumption or a trick question. There was only a two second pause before I asked my own question: Never?

I was ushered into a waiting room which already had another woman and her three-month old baby sitting there. Apparently she gets pulled over all the time and searched. They pulled apart a panel once and did not quite put it back together. I was lucky though. They called me almost right away and I was soon off to my own thoughts, but I did wonder how long they kept that woman there as I scooted off.

The drive evoked some memories of past traveling companions: Barb, Jan, Gordana, Angela, Lori, Larry, and Elsie. Lots of good conversation happened in those 16-hour round-trip drives. My favourite rest stop on one of the lakes was flooded out. It is a bit sad to see how high the water still is on both sides of the border. I kept looking for this one church on a hill. Maybe I have not yet passed it. I used to love that church. I think it must have represented something to me like God in the middle of nowhere, waiting for me. I was always heartened when I saw it.
I was remembering that I have been down to Iowa at least three times to see Janet who is coming up tomorrow night. I had this delightful memory of us tubing down the Iowa River and Janet finding out later that I could not swim. I also remembered going over to Nancy’s home in Hastings around
Christmas and stringing popcorn and cranberries together before going for a beautiful winter walk in the park one night. It was so stunning. I can almost hear the rocks skimming across the frozen lake now. I am transported back in time.

Myrna and I have had some deep conversations which I have appreciated greatly. Liz teaches me to live more like Christ and to laugh often. Each of these women has been a gift to me. It is the kind of friendship that permeates deeply, and is not surface, especially after 30 years. Each of them is a healing balm to me, a gift that I have never stopped being grateful for. These are strong, remarkable women who welcomed the young upstart into their lives three decades ago and taught me about feminism, independence, fidelity, and courage. The word grateful comes to mind when I think about them.

Have you ever thanked someone who has helped to shape your life?

Peace,

Suzanne