I was involved in a discussion about religion at work recently (always a good idea) and someone said, “I’ve met better people at the local bar than I’ve ever met at church.”  I almost asked him if he grew up in the same town I did.  These days, I’m a member of a church teeming with quality people.  As in, I’d enjoy hanging out with them at the local bar.  In my life, though, not all of my favorites have a working relationship with Jesus.  One day, I’d love to introduce them to him because I like them both so much and I just know they’d get along.  In the meantime, I’m enjoying their company.

Last weekend, the BF and I took the 7:47 am train from Grand Central to Poughkeepsie to attend the funeral of my brother-in-law’s aunt.  The sister of my Yankee Mom.  On the way, I thought about the earrings I’d given her in the Christmas swap this year (tucked into a picture of Tom Cruise) and how unfair it was that she barely got to wear them.  How unfair it is that she’ll never meet her grandchildren.  And yet in the heat of a crowded-to-standing-room-only church on Saturday, with The Sis (slight baby bump intact) on one side of me and the BF on the other, I realized that we’ll all be facing goodbyes at some point.  And they will all seem unfair.  This is what we get for loving people.

Before I write myself into jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge, let me get to the flip side of love.  The good stuff.  All my life, I’ve been surrounded by people who both believe in me and put up with me–equally daunting challenges.  I think about how I told my parents, when I was seventeen, that I wanted to switch high schools my senior year. They looked at what I’d be giving up: valedictorian status on the one hand, daily threat of death by gang violence on the other.  Then they cashed in some bonds and re-enrolled me across town.  Cut to ten years later, when I knew that my wandering instinct was not going anywhere and I told them it was leading me to New York. They showed up to pack the U-Haul and The Mom rode beside me for a thousand miles, then said goodbye and headed to LaGuardia with tears in her eyes.  The Dad grew accustomed to opening his loan ledger around April 15 each year, even though his doctor daughter was thirty by now and really should be able to pay her own bills (he may have mentioned so).

Which brings me to that Yankee Mom and Dad, and the relationships I would not have today had The Mom and Dad not shown up to pack me up and ship me north. For the past five years, I’ve had a second family an hour outside the city who welcome me with open arms whenever I hop on the train and show up at their doorstep.  They are the kind of people, unlike me, to whom warmth and acceptance come naturally. They think I’m great, which has always baffled me (at one point I actually asked The Sis, “Why do they like me so much?”.  Her reply:  “I have no idea.”) But they laugh at my jokes, buy me champagne, make me cookies, and let me put my feet on the coffee table as I burrow underneath their blankets.  And they were my biggest cheerleaders when I met the BF and then Brought Him Home to them, where they accepted him, dirty socks on the counter included, just because I said he was okay.  Then the Yankee Mom asked when we were going to give her some grandchildren.

What a gift it is to be believed in.  No wonder God counts it as righteousness.  A few weeks ago, AC sat across the table from me at California Pizza Kitchen (our favorite restaurant, duh) and, with the finesse of a corporate CEO, outlined a strategy for me to make my writing project more than a file on my computer.  She followed up with an email full of links and names and it was clear that she wouldn’t leave me alone until I had followed through on believing in myself as much as she believes in me. Kind of like my soon-to-be brother and sister-in-law, who recently purchased me a website where I can display my words on my own terms because they like this little blog.  What?! Talk about humbling.  Not to mention this year’s New Favorite People Awards.

After the memorial service we all went back to the house and hung out in the backyard, exchanging memories and just being together in the spring sun.  Less than a year ago, we were all in the same place celebrating the Yankee Cousin’s wedding.  As we drove away this visit, the Yankee Brother said that at one point he looked around at everyone and was just really happy, forgetting for a second why we were all there.  Because these are the same people we mark any important event with, be it celebration or loss.  There is a thin line between the two in terms of attendance. The people who believe always manage to show up.