you don’t even know me

I’ve been lucky enough, over the past year, to have been a part of three milestone birthdays: a 30, a 40, and a 50. They even happened in that order. Whitney turned 30 last September. The other two I never got around to writing about. Which is a shame, because these are remarkable women, with memorable celebrations. But hey, that’s what flashbacks are for, right?

So last November, my friend Melany turned 40. She tried to preempt the inevitable surprise party by planning her own shindig, at a fancy store in West Little Rock. We got to shop, eat, drink wine, try on beautiful clothes – we even got a private fashion show.

It was pretty much perfect for her. She loves to shop. She loves great clothes. She loves her people.

Melany is one of my funniest friends. She’s the friend that you are always saying I cannot believe she just said that about. Generally while you are also spitting your drink out laughing. She is, as my husband likes to put it, fearlessly inappropriate.

She’s the one who’s going to steal your phone and post something embarrassing on your facebook wall. Heck, she’s going to be the one to steal whatever. It might be your sunglasses, or your purse, which she will then wear the next time she sees you, waiting for you to notice.

We work at the church together – which is probably a poor decision on somebody’s part. Sometimes we are those kids at school that the teacher has to separate.

She is that friend that always has something to do, and you always want to go along. She has a gift of making everybody feel like they’re in on the joke, part of the party that she carries around inside her.

Speaking of parties, you’ll notice I said she tried to preempt the surprise. It came anyway. So within a few days, two celebrations. Fitting for a big one like 40.

The first thing she did when she walked in the room was to tell us all, individually, that we were LIARS. At least until we distracted her with some peeps from her hometown of El Dorado. From there the evening spiraled into embarrassing old pictures and embarrassing old people dancing.

In some ways, she and I could not be more opposite. She cannot stand to be late. I am always late. She’s organized, I’m not. She is all about Getting. Things. Done. I am all about Thinking. About. Them.

But it works for us, somehow. She has taught me that it’s okay to say exactly what you think. That often it’s a much better, braver answer than to hedge the truth.

I couldn’t love her more. I still remember, years ago now, when she told me she thought I was fun. It was like the cool girl at school had invited me over.

If Melany is around, you know you’re going to have a good time. But here’s what you might not know: if you stay around long enough, you’re going to come around the corner one day and run right into the depth of her life, of her faith. And when you do, you’ll be amazed.

I’m so glad she invited me in, like she has so many of us. This is one party that I want to stick around…