My Lizzy

Okay, so she isn’t really mine. I didn’t give birth to her (thank heavens cause we don’t look alike…), I didn’t sign any papers claiming her, but I’ve gotten to be her friend for nine whole years now, and so I think that gives me rights to the “m” word. What was it about us in the pre-existence that made Heavenly Father decide to put us back together again? Did He know we’d need each other during certain events in our lives? Check yeah! I don’t really want to know what kind of a person I’d be like without that girl. Maybe if we did a George Bailey-esque rewind and took her out of the equation, I’d be a bit more serious. A bit more socially awkward…okay, better make that a lot more socially awkward. A lot of things wouldn’t seem silly to me (examples: bagels, WinCo, goldfish, toilet paper, corn nuts). A lot of things would feel too serious and ordinary (more examples: grocery shopping, first dates, public speaking)--but all because I met her at that glorious 10th birthday party nine years ago, I don’t have to worry about my life being Liz-less. My mother, of course, was the reason we met in the first place. I didn’t think Lizzy would ever want to be friends with a girl like me. The main reason for this is because she wore Gap Kids clothes. I mean, a lot of her wardrobe was Gap Kids. Why would a Gap Kids girl wanna hang out with a brownish-redheaded, brace face girl like me? I may never know this, but I am so grateful that she did--so grateful in fact, that I don’t even have the right words to express it. I love you, Liz. Happy 19th Birthday!