I am guest blogging on the lovely Tess Hardwick’s website, Inspiration for Ordinary Life.  Tess is the brilliant author of the novel RIVERSONG and her writing is exactly that and more . . . motivational and exquisitely written.  It feeds my soul at every visit.

One of Tess’ features is entitled 20 Thursday where guest authors advise their twenty-year-old selves.  It has proven a hysterically funny topic for some writers, poignant one for others, and for me was a labor of love to write, not just because I adore the talented Tess, but because the universal topic of transitions is so complex and thought-provoking.

I’d be delighted if you’d click on the link and join us:  TessHardwick or go directly to http://tesshardwick.com and let us know:  what would you advise your twenty-year-old self?

Everyone has a few talents, areas in which he or she shines.  Music is not mine.  While I enjoy almost every style of song, I have been asked to enjoy it silently.

I’m sure the woman standing next to me in the vegetable aisle of my local grocery store last week was thinking of a polite way of screaming this at me as I belted out “ . . . best friend . . . hmmmm . . .” singing along with the muzak piped overhead.  I caught her look and with reddened cheeks stopped mid stanza, but the term “best friend” and what it means to sing with the joy of it stayed with me.

I am fortunate.   My best friend lives a few houses down from me.  Brought together by proximity (and I’m convinced divine grace) we’ve bonded over similar interests, unexpected losses, and everyday elations.  There are very few days we don’t share a conversation, an experience, a frustration, or a laugh and when I don’t get to connect with her I feel an absence in my day.

She knows my heart, has held the tattered pieces of me together with nothing more than her will, enfolding me in soft blankets and her fathomless empathy until I could tuck my trembling legs beneath me and stand on my own.  I hope I have done the same for her.

I adore her with ferocity and a depth that surprises even me sometimes.  It speaks of a primitive protectiveness:  my kin, my family.  There aren’t limitations, aren’t boundaries on what I would give her, share with her, do for her.

Best friend.

At the basest level, this is a manifestation of trust; trust that I can show my friend my unadorned self and she will not turn away.  She is unwavering in her support.  I know she will never point a finger, never criticize, and never berate me as lacking.

I know that she sees the best in me and because of it, I rise up.

And yet, what do we tell ourselves?  When you look in the mirror, is it with kindness and a view of the positive?  When you attempt a new project and occasionally fail, is the message one of support, of inspiration?

Do you treat yourself as gently as a friend does?  Do you hold yourself in the same regard as you do your best friend?

I heard the words “best friend” in music and had a moment of gratitude for mine.  The sentiment running through the lyrics was absolute acceptance.  That measure of friendship, that tender care for yourself and others, is the best gift I can wish for you today.

And I do.