I don't have a specific memory of Emily. Or, at least, I don't have one that's anything funny or touching or touchingly funny or funnily touching enough to waste the precious moments of her 30s with. I just have an impression.
My impression of my friendship with Emily requires, unfortunately, a quick dive into some of my own personal quirks. I know: it's always about Paul. But it'll come around. I am, by my own admission, not the easiest person to get to know. I can be quiet and reserved and probably a little bit standoffish. Not to be snobby or mean or elitist (not on purpose at least). Just hiding behind the curtains of "shy."
What does this have to do with Emily? In the years I've known her (and I'm the first to admit that those are fewer than her stalwarts. Worry not. Your position as lifelong friend is safe. I am no threat to you. And, so long as you continue in your valiance and fidelity, you will outpace me FOREVER.), she has, to me, exemplified what is said of Christ: we loved him because he loved us first. In spite of my aforementioned quietness, standoffishness, and, um, difficulty, Emily reached out to me. Consistently. She personally invited me to Service Group when I thought it had petered out. She was one of very few people at some shows of mine where, if not for those very few people, I would nearly outnumber the audience. She never waited for ME to be warm. She was warm and kind and friendly because that's who she is and how she chooses to treat others. Who WOULDN'T gravitate towards a friend as warm and Christlike as Emily? I highly doubt that I'm the only one she's been so warm to, so supportive of. But you feel that way, right?
Happy Birthday, Emily. I'm lucky to know you.
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