Choice

There were a lot of pathetic apologies from my end (I wasn't sure what I was supposed to apologize for). There were a lot of swearing and phone smashing from her end.

Around half a year ago, because of a series of miscommunication and misunderstandings, my friendship with a dear friend went up in flames, disintegrating in a very dramatic fashion.

Last week, during Thanksgiving, in between serving my first turkey with its odd patches of skin still barely attached and whipping up a banoffee pie, I felt prompted to call her and tell her how thankful I was for her friendship. She was my first friend when I arrived in China with my college life packed up in 8 suitcases, overwhelmed and underprepared. She was the reason why I could tell my mom that no, I really wasn't lonely, when I spent my birthday sans family and friends a week after moving here.

But eating the turkey did not give me the courage to call her. I wasn't joking about the flames.

Yesterday, while blow drying my damp hair, there was a more insistent tug at my heart to call her that day. I shook my head. Sure, I missed her, but I had moved on and it was best to leave it alone.

Then my mom called. Sisi, you need to check your email. Right now.

A mutual acquaintance, extremely protective of my friend, had felt obligated to write my mom a lengthy, passionate email and ask her to tell me to apologize.

Instantly, hurt, anger, disappointment, incredulousness formed a toxic mix in my heart, churning, wrenching it tighter and tighter, fueled by my feelings of being misjudged and mistreated. My parents spoke love and support to me and advised humility and faith, seeing this as a chance to act on the promptings I had received earlier.

I ate nothing all day, filling my hands with meaningless tasks so they would have yet another excuse to avoid the phone. My pride was equivalent to seven hours of pacing around the house.

Finally, I had to unclench my fist, actively choose to not be offended and recognize that this was the push I needed to call her. She picked up immediately. Hey, it's me. My heart, previously wrung tight and hard, literally softened at her voice. I told her how I was really grateful for her and that I had really missed her. As I started apologizing, more sincere this time because I actually understood more of her own hurt and disappointment from the email, she cut me off.

She had hit rock bottom recently. She really needed a friend. She also felt strongly that she should call me the last two weeks, but was afraid of my indifference. She said that my call had meant more than I would ever understand.

We both cried on the phone while telling the other how amazing she was. An hour later, we were still laughing and reminiscing about my terrible falling-asleep-in-awkward-places habit and her crazy colleague stories.

We both healed on this call. We chose to forgive and so we were forgiven.

All it took was a little unclenching of the fist.

Even the pricks can be beautiful.

Taken in Sahuarita.