friend-ships

I have a hard time asking for help. I like to be the one giving help. I would do anything for anyone and I think most of my friends appreciate that (and the ones that got clothing out of the deal, really appreciate it!). But, for myself, I have problems asking directly for help.

Thankfully, I have awesome friends.

I called one the day I found out I was leaving Mali. I asked her to come to see me, to stay with me for my last week; she was there in 30 hours. She sat with me while I vented, or ate ice cream, or watched too much Glee. She was just there, just like I needed.

I called the Goodfellas Friday, the day I left. I had to send individual text messages to 19 people. Before I could even finish I got a phone call. All three Goodfellas from Kita where on there way. It didn’t matter what I said. It didn’t matter that I wanted to leave without a word, under the radar. They were coming.

Turned out I needed them there. We ate ice cream and ordered dinner. They went with me to the airport.

I tried to leave without a word and yet word spread. A former volunteer all the way in California sent me a message making sure I was ok. He only knew me for a few weeks.

Before I boarded that plane I got text messages from several people. I shocked them. And they proved themselves by caring.

I’ve been home for 10 days. I’ve gotten several facebook messages and emails. Checking in from Mali. Emails from friends in the States. Notes about themselves, to tell me what they are doing. Funny stories from their day to make me laugh. They are there. Waiting on the other end.

They are having so much patience with me. 

I haven’t been able to write all of them back. It sounds too definite. But I hear you all; I read your notes over and over. And I thank you, thank you so much. I love you all and I will write to you soon.