Angie

I had a woman introduce me to a tree once.

I was visiting her in Farmington, CO and we were out taking a walk around her property. She stopped in front of this giant of a tree and told me the tree’s name. She told me how that tree had been a support for her in her life, how she had been grateful for the courage she felt when she imagined standing tall like her tree. For the tenderness she felt when she imagined her tree letting go every autumn of their leaves. She told me of the grace her tree showed when she didn’t visit sometimes and the welcome home she experienced when she returned.

With branches outstretched, that tree welcomed me into its family. I have never felt so rooted.

I named that tree, for my own heart. I named that tree Angie.

In my last journal post I wrote about going to the ER with breathing problems which turned out to be inflammation. As soon as my dear friend Angie read that post, she called me. Over and over again until she was able to reach me.

Seven times.

Over and over again seven times.

Finally, when my not-so-essential meeting was over and I looked at my phone, I knew I had caused some panic. And I called Angie immediately. And when she laughed after she heard I was ok, I swear I heard an angel.

I’m not sure I believe in angels.

But I do believe in Angie.

Angie is root and branch. Strength and courage. She is longtime friend and new discovery. Angie and I have sung together, have cried together, have laughed a little too long and a little too loud together. And each of those, every time, has been perfect.

Angie loves me. I know because she tells me every time we talk. I believe her because I know how she feels. I love her too. She loves a lot of people of course - her branches stretch wide. But I tuck away the assurance of her love. In fact, she told me last week that I was one of her favorite people. Balm to my soul. Warmth to get me, branches exposed in winter, through the cold.

Maybe, if you know Angie, she has told you she loves you, too. I actually wouldn’t put it past her to have told you that you’re one of her favorite people. Because you are. That’s the way angel love works. No limits.

We are Olathe North High School Eagles, Angie and I, and every five years we have attended our High School reunion. Angie is a social butterfly to my introverted turtle. She is well-worn tree bark to my rough bark-y scales. I’m not surprised when she is the queen of the dance and I am the table (not at the table - the actual table. Anyone else? Am I the only one who has felt like a table in social situations?). I’m not surprised when she gets up to the mic and asks us to remember those who have died. She knows everyone and, as I’ve mentioned, loves us all.

I pray for people, people who are broken or lonely or just so stinkin’ tired they didn’t get out of bed today - or yesterday. One of the things I pray is that they have someone who will call them seven times in a row. A tree that reaches out, undeterred by voicemail. A trunk so solid you know it will be there forever.

When Angie read my earlier journal entries she asked me to write one about her. Her one requirement? “Make me laugh”, she said.

I’m pretty sure I’ve not fulfilled the brief.

But one of the things I know is that Angie would love a cat joke. So here ya go, dear friend:

Why are cats great singers? Because they're very mewsical!

Ah, hear that laugh? An angel.

If you’re ever in Farmington, say hey to my tree, the one I’ve named Angie. Tell that strong tree I’m fine. You’ll find me hanging out at the VFW Hall in Olathe watching her namesake sing “You Light Up My Life” using a handheld mic and small speaker set. It will be right after she has reminded us of all the love we have for one another.

Every time Angie tells me good bye and I love you, every time, I think to myself: Wow - I’m her biggest fan. So, dear Angie, even though I may be far away in distance you have to know that great roots run deep and ours are intertwined. And here, just in case the first one didn’t do it:

When a cat doesn’t want to say goodbye, what do they say instead? “See ya litter!”

See? Cat’s out of the bag, Angie. I love you.

Oh, and I’m expecting your call. And I’ll answer right away this time. I promise.