Dear BFF,

I'm still laughing. Thanks for watching out for my future.

Hugs & kisses,

B

Dear The Job,

I know I've written you angry letters in the past, and let's be honest, I will probably continue to do so in the future because I'd rather be a full time artist. That said, I really don't hate you, and in the spirit of Christmas cheer, I wanted to tell you what I like about you. After all, much as I complain sometimes, the fact remains I haven't left you, which in itself is a testament to your not being all bad.

• My coworkers are intelligent, competent, and responsible. I can rely on them to do what they said they'd do, and it's a pleasure to help them out when I can.
• They're also funny. Never underestimate the power of humor.
• The work is challenging. In a bigger sense, I'd rather find my challenge in creative pursuits, but I am glad to have a challenging job right now that's actually teaching me skills that I can apply to those creative pursuits someday.
• You pay me. It's been a year and a half and I'm still beside myself every time I get a paycheck that's over the federal poverty level.
• You do good things. It's kind of a thrill to work for a company that's at the top of its game and plans to stay there. It can add to the stress level, sure, but there's also something incomparable about feelng you're making a difference somewhere.
• You have good food.
• You look cool. The architecture nut in me geeks out about your campus and the design that went into it. Your focus on making function look cool—drains that look like waterfalls; hallways that look like movie sets—delights me when I take a moment to really see it.

So, while I definitely need the vacation that's coming up in two days, and while I'm probably spending between 10 and 13 hours with you today and tomorrow each, I'll come back in January because there are some things I'm really happy about with you.

Merry Christmas,

B

Dear 29 Candles on a Raspberry Trifle,

You looked like you were about to burn the house down. "There's a lot more than 29 on there, right?" I asked my friends as they carried you out of the kitchen.

"Nope!" one said gleefully. (He's 24. Just wait a few years, buddy.)

It was like a scene out of a chick flick. You know the one. Where the single woman with a high-stress job and a cat stares her years in the face while Stevie Nicks sings Landslide soulfully in the background.

And yet, as I blew out your flames reflected like a conflagration in my eyes (no bifocals yet, thankyouverymuch), I couldn't think of anything to wish for. Surrounded by dear friends and fully aware of tons more friends all around the world wishing me well, with a hand-made trifle made with raspberries from my friend's own garden, on a front porch in autumn-like weather without the imminent threat of winter, I could only hope the next 29 years are full of such comfort and contentment as I've heretofore experienced.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Friends,

I don't deserve you. Each day, I wonder what I could have possibly done to earn your friendship, and I can never reach a satisfactory answer. You are supportive, attentive, and in every way wonderful. And you seem to think I deserve your friendship, despite my doubts on that score.

Maybe this is a slight hint of the love we have from Christ. I don't deserve his love, but he really, really wants to give it to me. To all of us. Deep, true love isn't our love for God, but his love for us, sacrificial love with no reason to expect an equal return. He meets us halfway and, when we aren't there, he keeps going the whole way until he reaches us where we are.

Thanks for loving me so much I can start to understand, however slightly, the love of Christ.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Friends,

Five bridesmaid dresses in my closet and approximately thirty-five wedding programs in my scrapbook suggest that, now that you're all married off, if you ever want to see me at a wedding again, you'd better start helping me find a guy.

Hugs & kisses,

B

Dear That Sense of Rightness and Justice in This World,

Just want to say thanks. Overall, the world does not meet any of our standards for perfection, to the point that many of us give up on the hope that there must be something better out there. But sometimes, you show your face again, just for a moment, just a small glimpse, and remind those of us still watching and waiting for Better that it really does exist and is worth living for.

When two puzzle pieces finally admit they fit together perfectly, when after months of prayer I get to see two of my favorite people come together, it's nothing short of a relief. The Hebrew word shalom means peace, perfection, unity, and completion, the resolving major chord at the end of a cacophonous symphony. If such a small-scale event can bring such relief, I can only imagine what it will be like when you finally reclaim all of creation. No more pain, no more hurricanes, no more loneliness or barriers to love. May we all live and work and hope for the Better that lies beneath the surface.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear S,

That was AWESOME. All of it was, including, but not limited to, the following:

• Hanging out with you for three whole days in a row for the first time in YEARS.
• Getting a chance to know your fiancé husband better.
• Meeting some of your Tennessee friends finally.
• My shoes somehow (miraculously) not even smelling bad.
• Partying all day Saturday for the best reason I could ever come up with.
• Seeing your fiancé husband cry the minute he saw you walking down the aisle.
• Hearing a random stranger stop his golf cart and exclaim that you're the most beautiful bride he's ever seen.
• Getting to use a microphone to brag about how awesome you are to a room full of attentive wedding guests.
• Witnessing two super deserving people vow to be each other's others for the rest of their lives.

It all went by too fast, but I'm so glad I got to be the one standing by your side.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear BFF,

That was the best visit in the history of BFFness. When I left for work yesterday, I was already missing you and your adorable daughter. When I got home last night, my apartment seemed so wide-open and empty without you two there. Five days were way too short, but I'm so glad we got them.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Last Night,

Thanks for being so much fun.

Hugs & kisses,

B

Dear JH,

Thank you so much for giving me an air conditioner on Tuesday. With nothing but 95° highs in the forecast, that little box in my window will surely be what keeps me from dying in my upstairs attic apartment. And although one of the reasons I came to Wisconsin was to get away from summers like these, the kindness of friends like you makes it all worth the move.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear 30-Second Segment of a Conversation on Monday,

For how brief you were, you made me sad and got me thinking for the subsequent 48 hours. Change, relocation, and answers to prayer: all of this was wrapped up in a short side comment as part of a larger conversation. I have what I want, and you, oh short little sentence, informed me that an old, fervent prayer for someone else has been answered. And even as I thank God for that answer, I'm realizing that I have to come to grips with the fact that just because God answers prayers we make for someone else, that doesn't necessarily mean we ourselves get to benefit from those blessings.

You showed me that God is good, and that I still have a lot of growing up to do.

Hugs & kisses,

B

Dear Toes,

I get it. We're happy. And I know that you've wiggled whenever I'm happy since the summer I was born. Still. Today's joyful toe-wiggling is getting a little fidgety.

Okay, fine, you're right. I don't mind at all. When the first news I have in the morning is about a dear friend's engagement (and subsequent welcome request to be in her wedding too!), and the sun is shining and the air cool, and the sewing machine I bought second-hand over the weekend works, and I reach the half-way point in the project I'm writing, and ... well ... this day happens ... the most appropriate thing in the world is for my toes to wiggle out of control.

So wiggle away, dear ones. Wiggle away.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Crotchety Old Wives Who Say "Three Times a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride,"

HA! Thwarted again!

You thought you had me, didn't you, with the last wedding I was in? And you thought you SUPER-had me with this fourth one in September. I know you did, because you're old wives who want to ruin the happiness of youth with inane sayings based in lies.

But I'm looking at two times a bridesmaid, two times a maid of honor, and that is not the same thing. Instead of indicating I am destined for spinsterhood, it shows, instead, that I am, in fact, REALLY good at developing relationships, deepening bonds and staying true over a long period of time. Two times a bridesmaid for friends I've had since birth and first grade. Two times a maid of honor for friends since ages 11 and 12. Two times a bridesmaid, two times a maid of honor: I am a prize for any guy who values loyalty and commitment.

Never a bride? More like building up a curriculum vitae that proves I'll rock as a wife.

(Anyone interested?)

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear BFF's 3-Year-Old Son,

Thank you so much for asking your mom today if Barbie was Justin Bieber's husband. Everything about that question shows me what an awesome combination of your parents you already are.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear A,

You are one of many friends whose name begins with A, but you are the only one who currently lives near me. Thanks for being good company, for being generous with your car, for feeding my obsession with British television, and for reading my blog so much it seems you're starting to think in open letters, as well.

So, I guess I can also say thanks for giving me the slight feeling I'm slowly taking over the world, one needed stamp at a time.

Hugs & kisses,
B