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GE Profile Spacemaker

My next four posts will be some of my archive favorites. Since my friend Ann’s husband is staying with us while in town on business, I dedicate today’s blog to her. Ann, I still miss you like crazy.

It was the last week before my good friend’s out-of-state move, so I had her over for dinner.  (I’d cleaned house fairly well for the occasion.)  I thought I had the food timed just right, but alas, the casserole cooled before the beans were complete.  My friend casseroled her plate up and innocently moved toward the microwave.  The word “nooooooooooooooooooo” escaped my lips in a slow motion groan as I vaulted into the small space left between my friend and my GE Profile Spacemaker microwave.

microwave

“You can’t open that!”  I was mortified once my thoughts caught up with my dramatic convection-block.  “Let me do that for you,” I offered, hoping she would accept and say no more.

“Why?”  She seemed wary and amused at the same time.

My face flamed and I considered telling her a lie.  But I couldn’t.  “It’s been at least a year since I last cleaned it, and it’s bad.  I’m talkin’ sauce-spattered, meat-encrusted, unidentifiable-food-particle bad.  It’s too shameful for you to see inside.”

She grinned.  “It’s not like I’m going to judge you.  I don’t care how dirty your microwave is!  Do you think my house is perfect?!”  I had the nerve to nod; a move at which she promptly laughed.

We stood toe-to-toe for several seconds as I weighed my options.  Then slowly, I stepped aside and held my breath as she stretched her hand up to grasp the formed white plastic.  There was the telltale ‘pop’ of the door opening and then a pause as she peered in.

“I’ve seen worse,” she offered with a smile as she commenced with her food re-heating.  Just how many microwaves had she looked into?  But I understood what her comment really meant.  She was letting me know it was safe to allow her access to my proverbial dirty microwave.  She would still be my friend even after witnessing my inner unidentifiable-food-particle flaws.

It was a touching moment.  With tears welling up in my heart, I said jokingly, “I’m so sorry I waited until you were moving to take our friendship to the next level.”

I am happy to say that despite the distance, the two of us still share a great friendship.  I count a handful of other amazing women among my dirty-microwave-level friends.  I would not want to walk through life without them.  They comfort me, speak truth to me, and laugh with me.  These friendships can’t be made with everybody.  And they can’t be made with just anybody.  Some are for a season, while others can last a lifetime.  But we all need them.

Do you let your friends see your dirty microwave? Literally and figuratively?

Original post: March 28, 2012.

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