What I’ve Learned from My Bets
One of my dearest friends recently got married and moved to Australia. It was a great joy to stand and celebrate with her and yet there was a keen awareness all around that this meant significant loss in what our day-to-day friendship looked like as she moved 15 time zones away. Leading up, we had processed all of it—from getting giddy about her new life with him to all the losses in saying goodbyes and figuring out what it meant to see her future life and relationships as different and not over. When wedding festivities began, we decided this was time to celebrate and not lead with grieving, so we did. And it was wonderful. But let’s just say it was harder to gather the words. On the night of her rehearsal dinner, I had prepared some notes of things I could share, but the room was filled with unfamiliar faces and I couldn’t gain the courage in the moment to stand and share in front of all those people. I kind of regret that my fear made the moment about me, but reflecting on our friendship made my heart well up with gratitude and I have some things I’d like to share.
I have been blessed with a number of incredibly authentic and supportive friends and have other stories to tell of them. With Betsy, though, there was something sweet and timely about the budding of this friendship that feels unforgettable. Betsy was a classmate in my counseling program, during some years of being undone and challenged in my own ways of dealing with pain and looking at my own brokenness. There were moments when I felt so exposed in my insecurities and hiding wasn’t working anymore. I still remember our Mumford & Sons road trip to Raleigh when it felt like our bond fused over dancing in the car and sharing some of the deep struggles we were facing within ourselves. And then moments over the next years when I was raw in my messiness—making choices I was afraid to be judged for, failing to have courage and living into a diluted version of myself, admitting to paralyzing fears, and even being needy and requiring reassurance around my fears of her rejection amidst it all. A lot of tears, a lot of anxious words scrambling out of my mouth, and vulnerable moments of need. But none of it scared her away. What had started as feeling exposed shifted to feeling seen.
You see, Betsy has an incredible capacity to hold all the parts of people and she loves the parts that are hard for others to embrace in themselves. She never loved me in spite of my issues, but loved me because she knew that they made me human, just like her. The ugly in me didn’t surprise or scare her because she was able to see the ways her own brokenness simply took on a different shape. Her acceptance of me in some of my lowest moments helped me to be free to move toward the best version of myself because I knew I was safe and she wouldn’t judge me. Her love for me in the midst of my fear, worry, and insecurity gave me a place to begin to imagine and experience something greater. Her capacity for the depths within both of us gave me greater capacity for the heights. I’m so thankful for the ways her being in touch with her own brokenness allowed me to learn to embrace and celebrate myself as I watched her fight the same battle.
I miss having Betsy close by, but I don’t worry that she will build deep bonds wherever she goes because she radiates an imperfect authenticity that I only hope that we can all have in a friend. I only hope to emulate my dear Betsy as one who can sit with others in the darkness so that, together, we can find our way out into the light.

