A few months ago I was watching BBC’s Human Planet. One of the clips was about an old woman who had lost her sight. Her village was located in the mountains, some of the pathways in the village were terribly steep and dangerous, but she had learned to adapt to her condition, and simply moved carefully through her terrain in order to avoid injury.
There was a doctor not too far away, who performed operations to restore sight. So her friend carried her, six and one half miles, to meet with the doctor and have the operation.
Carried. Her. In his arms. Now that is love.
I wept through the rest of the clip.
The woman’s sight was restored. And she went back to her life as before, but now, able to see.
Because her friend loved her.
It made me think about the people I love. Who would I carry? Who would carry me?
I think I’ve been rather lucky as far as friends go. I have friendships that span decades.
They also span the globe, which means I have a place to rest and share a cup of coffee in a lot of different map dots. Luckily most of my friends also love coffee!
There are few things more refreshing to me than a good friend, a good cup of coffee, and good conversation. The combination of these is restoring; balm to my soul.
Time spent with friends is crucial. To me, this is the equivalent of being carried six and a half miles.