The origin of a friendship can come from many things. For me, friendships have been realized through a love of food, a random movie quote, a shared experience, or the ability of someone to make me laugh hard enough that no sound comes out. But one of my closest friends came through Mexico. No, he is not Mexican (although he has been mistaken for such), but we would not be friends had it not been for that country from Central America. So here is the story.
There was once this kid that I knew practically nothing about. I knew his name, and I knew what he looked like and that's about it. We were both in second grade.
Fast forward to junior year of high school. I still knew practically nothing about this kid. But he was in my handbell choir, so you know, I could say that I knew him. Our handbell choir placed first in regionals, so we were finally going to get to go down to South Carolina to a certain university to play for the national competition. Needless to say, with my love of handbells, I was pumped. Then, our director informs us that this kid couldn't come with us because he was having a medical procedure done. In Mexico.
Now, I can't say that I am the most warm-hearted person in the world, but I do love handbells and so the thought of someone having to miss handbells for any reason was really quite sad to me. So I decided to send this kid an email. Just something to say, "Hey, hope you do well in Mexico, sorry you can't come with us, and I'm praying for you." Email sent. Then I started reading his blog which he posted in everyday, and he had this way of writing that was interesting, humorous, and relatable even though I had clearly never been to a hospital in Mexico before. Plus, I was praying for him and he emailed me back a couple times. Cool, you know? So now I knew who he was. Kind of.
Summer before senior year, I got invited to hang out at his house with a bunch of other kids. And I found out that I loved his family. His sisters, his little brother, his dad, and especially his mom. And then I came over a lot more when his mom decided it was her job to help me plan my life. Which I was cool with since I had no idea what my life should include anyway. "Be an accountant" she would say. "No way" I would reply. But she kept telling and I kept listening and her advice on so many subjects was good and biblical and oh so HONEST. And soon I found out that her son, my new friend, was also very (sometimes brutally) honest with me. And while this honesty made me feel defensive at times, it would also penetrate into my head and make me think. Then eventually, it would make me change. So I knew that kid a little more and I respected him.
Fast forward to today. Spring of my (and his) junior year of college.
We go to the same college. We go to the same church in town. He's still brutally honest with me. On occasion, I return the favor. I have a standing tradition of giving him a new Pearls Before Swine comic book on his birthday. During break, you will find me over at his house, watching movies with his family or sitting on the kitchen counter discussing life with his mom. We share a strange obsession with Quik Trip. We understand conversations consisting of mainly movie quotes. I loaned him the Hunger Games and he got sucked right in (score). We laugh at each other and occasionally, with each other. I can always count on him to know what to say, spiritually or otherwise. He is the one that always tells me to blog even though I constantly remind him that I don't have time. In short, that kid is a great friend.
So you see, if not for Mexico, I would have missed out on a pretty awesome friendship. Thanks, Mexico. I owe ya one.
m(r)
