The highest honor of friendship isn’t getting invited to “that party” or out on a girls weekend. It’s not clinking champagne glasses at fancy brunches or wearing matching shirts on a beach in Spain. That all is nice and fun and good and special, but it’s not what it’s about, not at all.
The real honor of friendship is being invited into someone’s REAL. It’s getting an invitation into the nitty gritty, the not-so-pretty, the hard stuff, the vulnerable stuff, the weird stuff, the unpolished stuff. It’s being welcomed into a home where the sink is full of dishes and the laundry is covering the couch. It’s entering the places of heart ache and pain. It’s being invited to the hospital room when your friend is still in her mesh underwear from birth. It’s sitting crosslegged in old sweats on the floor and laughing till you cry. It’s carrying around secrets that you’ve been trusted to keep. It’s listening and hearing. It’s holding space for each other. It’s answering phone calls just to talk something through.
The highest honor of friendship isn’t found in beautifully planned events or brightly filtered photos.
The highest honor of friendship is messy and dingy and real. It’s in unfiltered photos of laughing so hard your double chin is showing. It’s loving each other’s babies and holding each other while you ugly cry.
I can’t stress this enough:
If you’ve been invited into even one person’s real, you are blessed.