Inga

Do you have those types of friends you could sit down with for hours talking and still have more to say?

The ones you are eager to share the vulnerable side of your heart with because you want them to know you and you can trust them to safely & nobly hold you even with all your wounds and weaknesses?

Friends you can laugh with one moment and cry with the next and it's real and normal?

I met Inga in Kansas City. Our mutual friend Leeza was always encouraging us to meet because she thought we'd get along smashingly, but it was not until after Leeza moved back to South Africa that Inga and I connected. I can't remember the day, but I remember thinking...wow, I'd like to be friends with this person.

Recently Inga and her precious family moved back to South Africa and I've been surprised to discover how lonely I've felt over her absence. She touched something in me at a deep level and I think maybe I became more in her presence.

Inga likes to keep busy and is a social connector. We led a woman's bible study together and walked through the book Captivating by Jon and Staci Eldridge. She kept saying "Let's only let x # of people into the group, but just about every week of the first month there were new faces she'd invited. I'd laugh knowing that she so values connection and community that she just couldn't help herself.

People are drawn to Inga like fireflies to light. This really is not an exaggeration. She carries light inside of her - I know it is the light of Jesus Christ and although some could not necessarily name the source they are hungry for a taste of whatever it is. Inga has a natural and un-dominating authority about her that says it is safe to share, but there's going to be no nonsense about calling out the truth. She's sympathizing with you one minute and then subtly slipping in the truth above the pain. It's is just a given if you are going to tell your story she is likely going to help you rewrite the wounded parts.

We each have 3 younger children and the Raw's are a family you call up 30 minutes before the hour and say "hey come on over and grill" and they're actually game for the party. We'd let the kids tear it up in the back yard, acting like LOUD and crazy monkeys without having to apologize because Hannah smacked Gabriel or Gabriel shoved Isaac. It was real life lived in real time and I never felt like I had to apologize if it was raw, full of snotty noses or even silly.

Inga is intentional and unafraid of giving time to see others walk victorious. In a battle, she'd be fierce and I'd choose to fight along her side most any day; we may both be quaking in our boots, but I'd count on her to draw her sword and swing to the end.

We need Marvelous Comrades in our life's and I am blessed to have several.

I just happen to be highlighting Inga because my heart is missing her.

I miss rummaging through her kitchen cupboards for little snacks and tea which always tasted better because it was at her house.

I miss talking. When it felt like I had come to the end of my rope Inga would be one of those who'd talk me straight.

I miss the laughter.

I even miss the tears.

I drive by her house and even after I've passed I find myself glancing in the rear view mirror at the mosaic lamppost out front because I've been indelibly marked by the light which came from that house.

Friendship...it is a beautiful thing.