My Jersey Five

Every year my 4th Day community is added to by people who went on the retreat the winter before. People who see me but once or twice a year, but we share a love like no other. We share joys and concerns, pancakes and cheese puffs. Listen, love, and worship together. We follow each other on Facebook, and get a little too excited when the next time we will meet is announced. This is a disclaimer that I love each and every one of you- even though this post is only about a few. This particular post  is about those who have seen me through it all (Or loved me from a far.) for longer then I can remember.


"Do you want to go on a retreat?" asked my parents the winter before I turned 15. "Can Ashley come?" was my response. I knew they had been working for months on a weekend designed to bring college/high school students closer to God. To introduce them to the idea of being loved unconditionally. They had exactly two extra slots, and I was invited to go.
  For years, I'd been dragged a long to planning meetings, reunions, pot luck suppers and candle light services for this particular retreat's parent counterpart. A similarly designed weekend for adults that both of my parents attended at different parts of their lives. It changed their perceptions on reality. In many ways, I think it changed their relationship with each other. I know it changed my relationship with them. Emmaus as it is called was a part of my life because it was a part of theirs. So here was a chance, to be an actual part of the community. Plus a weekend with my best friend without my parents sounded good to me.
   I couldn't imagine what those 72 hours would entail; nor can I properly explain them to you. We were what in the beginning seemed like an endless group of strangers, who all became impossibly close by Sunday's end. It was a weekend of no judgement, shared heartbreaks and shared joys. Snow fell outside the dorm windows slowly all weekend, though we had no concept of time.
   Ashley and I shared the same two packs of pocket tissues the whole weekend. Holding hands and holding on. We went in as a team, just she and I; but we came out as a small army. 15 years after that one weekend, I am so incredibly lucky to still have a home among those few people. Our little group made bigger each year by those that have come after us.
  at 18 a series of unfortunate events led me to a big "f- you" moment to my faith. I climbed my mountains blindly in the darkness for 9 years; defining my life by the experiences I had. College student, Girlfriend, Actor, Traveler. Until bit by bit those labels peeled off. Proving that none of that defines me. I had lost that bit that defined me.
         I kept in touch with exactly three of the mass of people I had loved; one of them has been with me from the day I was born. She was only three, so we didn't have much of a choice of being thrown together. Though the fact we have chosen to stay together for 29 years is testimony to the power of our cult like small town. And also a testimony to our shared neurosis. Which we hypothesize might have to do with the water. If I could withstand the early years of her not so gently guided leadership (bossy), and she my entitled vocalization (whining), I figure we can get through anything. (Stop judging my punctuation Shmann. This is my blog.)
         The second had a vested shared interest in my secular life. Having other friends in common, we had a rocky relationship. But it was there. Becca (thankfully) has never suffered from self-deprecation. My psyche was a foreign land to her full of inefficient expended energy. Often exasperated with each other, I'm not sure why we held on. Though I thank God we did. Now I wouldn't want to know my life without her.
         My third and I lived hundreds of miles a part. Ashley and I walked into that college hall holding hands, the same as we did Gatwick airport, and broken down campsites and have never let go. We live 20 miles or so from each other now. In the past year, she has dropped everything to help me move, meet the Police when I accidentally set off my cousin's security alarm and danced to music only heard by she and I in the tunnels under the Library of Congress. She is probably my favorite part of living here.
       In 2013, shortly before making the big move I went searching again. Broken, lost and hurting; I once again walked into another weekend among mostly strangers. For some, It had been 10 years since I had seen the faces of those I had once held so dear. And they all looked at me- like I'd gone on vacation to some far away place and gave me a welcome I wasn't sure I deserved. I joked that the prodigal daughter had returned. Honestly, that's how it felt. Two years later, a small group of us get together as often as we can. It a lot harder to get the larger group together. They do ordinary things like meet up for wine (and Gin) night and use Facetime to bring me in. We are together even though we are miles apart.
         My Laura is getting married. That blows my mind. My Peachy Keen Jelly bean, who shocked us all by speaking in public, now commands the attention of children everyday. Leads church congregations. She has the largest heart, the most giving spirit, and the most dedicated soul I have ever met. If she says she will do it, it will get done. With a smile, even if she wants to murder you. She remembers things I do not. Which makes me sad, because I wish I had all the memories of us that we ever made. But I'm so thankful I get a chance to make new ones again.
          My Sara can duke it out with Shmann as to who is first to call you out on your shit, and tell you how it really is. Jersey through and through, she is kind and strong. Beautiful and calm. Dimples for miles, her eyes give clues as to what she will say before it comes out of her mouth. She always knows what to say to make life better. Or make you cry on your Birthday.
       An exception to this long list of people who have known me forever is my New Best Friend. He was there last night via Skype from Texas. I talk to him more than I actually talk to anyone else in my life. About stupid things. About inappropriate things. About things I REALLY didn't want to know, or he REALLY didn't need to know. But its all good. He puts it in perspective in a way only a dude could do. Plus he gives really good advice on dress selection when forced into it.
When I'm hurting or need advice they are the perpetual group-chat that I bitch to. The ones that know me better then I know myself. They aren't my only friends like this.  But they are Jersey Five. and I thank God for them everyday.