There was one more person from the Church whom I mildly, desperately, wanted to find. I’d Googled. I’d searched Facebook and LinkedIn. I’d looked. But nothing.

And then my mom went to what seemed to be a Moonie reunion of sorts. And ran into him. And texted me a picture.

As life it would have it, that was a Sunday, and the following Tuesday I was heading to D.C. As was my long-lost friend. So we got together.

The pieces are falling into place.

As we reminisced over a drink (well, I had wine and he had nonalcoholic beer – my how times have changed) I could feel the pieces falling into place. As I blurted out my memories and some of what had happened since we’d last seen each other, decades ago, I could feel them snapping in.

I’d so needed, and wanted, to see this person again. The universe had provided – even putting us in the same city two days after he’d stumbled upon my mom.

I’ve tried to explain my longing to reconnect with people and places of the Church. I’ve tried to explain how it makes what was so real, and then so unreal, real again. And how healing that is. How healing it is to own all of me, all that happened. All the people and places I’d walked away from. All the pain and joy that had been, and was, wrapped up into my experiences and my life in, and away from, the Church.

It healed me. It wholed me even more. It reinforced and reaffirmed the love in my heart and the love that drives me and fuels me. I remembered painful times with this friend. He apologized. I acknowledged that our friendship – and his love and care – probably helped save my life. Helped save me. I cried.

I told my high school friends about my seeing my Church friend. They sent me “wow’s” and love. I told them how I told him that his love helped save me. They told me I saved myself. They were there. They would know.

A sixteen-year-old reached out to me on Twitter. She asked about my childhood, my experiences, my pain. She told me of her suffering, her trauma. I told her that my suffering and pain has helped me have more appreciation of my life today and, I think, more love in my heart. It doesn’t make the suffering less so; it doesn’t negate the ache and unfairness of all that’s happened to her.

But we survive. We thrive. The universe provides, and the pieces fall into place.

Love prevails.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, and please share this post with others if it resonates with you!

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