A Very Rich Woman

Binker-what I call him-is a secret of my own,
And Binker is the reason why I never feel alone.
Playing in the nursery, sitting on the stair,
Whatever I am busy at, Binker will be there.

Oh, Daddy is clever, he's a clever sort of man,
And Mummy is the best since the world began,
And Nanny is Nanny, and I call her Nan-

But they can't See Binker. ...

-A.A. Milne

This morning I was out the door earlier than usual because I had a meeting at Grace College. I rode my bike through the campus, my ears cold in the fall air despite the kerchief tied about my head. A lone orange lays on the pavement and I wonder if this campus haunted by Invisible Cows of Doom like Belhaven is. That would explain the orange, though I don't see any left shoes.

Today is Binker and my third anniversary. It's an Easterish sort of anniversary in that it changes every year depending on when the Arts Discover day is scheduled, because that is when we met. I was visiting the campus for the first time and during one of the social whatnots he came and talked to me.
At the time I didn't realize that the conversation was unusual for him. My very introverted friend did not appear so to me then. Since that day however I've learned that he doesn't generally talk to people he doesn't know. Now granted we'd had a Batman connection the day before thanks to Amy who was hosting me then and is now a dear friend too. Still, his out of character action continues to puzzle both of us, though we are happy for it.
If I were at Belhaven today the two of us would find some time in our busy schedules to walk over to the spiral staircase inside the Bitsy Irby Arts building. I would sit on one of the large steps and he would stand behind the railing. We would laugh about the conversation that took place this way three years ago and wonder at the friendship that has come after it.

I got to see him this week, which I'm glad for and can still hardly believe. He, Scott, Nod, Rin and Meg came to see me for fall break. The first four drove 13 hours and Meg came down from Chicago. Have I told you that I'm a very rich woman? It was wonderful to be with such dear friends and I miss them greatly.
~ ~ ~ ~

I get to the building where my meeting is and hop off of my bike. As I sit in the office I see the desk calender and can hardly believe how far we are through October. Where does the time go? This time last week I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of my friends and now they've gone. The first two paper square weekends represent two anticipated reunions, both over, both lovely, both which I'm grateful for.

Last night we had fellowship night and went to the Kavanaugh's for a play reading. Before delving into "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead" we watched a CPAF promo video from 1988. As we chuckled over the dated content, the four founding members of CPAF talked about their old friends as they came on the screen.

"Where's Bill now?"
"Oh he's in Florida."
"Is he still in music?"
"I'm not sure. Oh there's Dan! He remarried five years ago."
"John's gone now isn't he?"
"Yes, he died last year."
"Janet's got three little ones."
"Whatever happened to..."

I listen to their reminisces and wonder about the younger generation present in the room. I wonder at our own conversations such as this in years to come. Where will life have taken us? How will we talk about one another? When I listen (my kids listen? Nephews and nieces?) to the recording of "Through the Looking Glass" will I know where each of those people are? Some of them? What will they be doing?
Reading the play last night (I got to play Guildenstern, oh what fun!) I read a description of Autumn sky which is exactly what I've been trying to say for the past three days. I've been calling the color change in the sky a "Thanksgiving sky". But this is so much better;

: Autumnal−nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day...Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it... Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses... deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth−reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. At such times, perhaps, coincidentally, the leaves might fall,somewhere, by repute. Yesterday was blue, like smoke.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I have a lot of wonderful yesterdays and the todays are good too. I look forward to seeing what each of my friends do. They are talented, beautiful, loving people and I am excited to see what art they create, whether it be plays, paintings, or families (Some already are). I smile to think of how my little brothers will grow too. My not so little brothers. I pray that whatever these loved in my life do, they will do it to the glory of God, that their focus will be their relationship with Him. Because that's the most important really. And I'm thankful for the mystery and for the knowledge that whatever comes He has it in His hands.