Julie was a stranger, to me, on the typically hot August afternoon when we met. Her words hinted of a southern tone, and her smile made me question her sincerity when she spoke.
Well, maybe it was my past and my already incredibly distrusting twelve year old self which made me distrust the authenticity in her words. I learned to trust her above anyone else…
In time I learned, from her, that everyone is worthy of a cautious glance but that with caution comes the ability to use wisdom to garner whether or not they are trust worthy. Indispensable advice!
When she told my disjointed and moody middle school self that my jeans would go, first, through the wringer washer and then hang to dry- perfectly smoothed out- on the clothes line, i thought she was trying to make my life crazy. Twenty Two years later, (Gosh, am i that old?) though I wouldn’t be caught dead using a wringer washer, I still won’t dry my jeans in the dryer. They last forever, looking as new as the day I bought them.
After years and years, (well into my adulthood) of thinking I had to go at it alone, Julie showed me that I could go to her for anything, even after I was grown. And so I would…
A sense of humor is something most of us are born with, but because of Julie and her love of beauty and funny and the miraculous combination of both- I learned to laugh. To truly laugh, lighthearted and with honesty.
Though I prefer to wax them, and still hate to tweeze, it was Julie that taught me the importance of eye brow shaping. It was Julie present and comforting on the first day of my period. For nearly every defining, adolescent mom moment- Julie stood in the gap.
She claimed me as her own. She adopted me in her heart, and even proclaimed when I was nearing my thirtieth birthday that she was working on a plan to get rich so she could hire an attorney to adopt me for real. She was joking, of course. At that point she had been my mom for the greater part of seventeen years. Over those seventeen years, myths about family were debunked and I learned the truths… the truths about blood verses heart and love verses choice… I learned things there aren’t words for.
She taught me to get through the tough days. The screaming child rages and the moments when I felt completely un-cut-out to be a mom. She was a phone call away from most of them and always happy to talk me through them.
It was her willingness to love, to hold close and to sometimes see past which taught me to love on my own. To love my own children, not birthed from my womb. To be there, to listen. To love in honesty, to love them authentically…
When Julie died, I learned a lot too… How not to reach for the phone during a mommy meltdown moment… How not to tear my house apart searching for her noodle recipe and then just give up and dial her number… Eventually I grew to see the immense blessings in loving her and being loved by her. I learned to measure my moments and cherish them because there truly is no guarantee…
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