By Lauryl Hebenstreit
There are a lot of times you agree to do something and then it comes time to do that something and you decide, “Now is a good time to organize my senior year English assignments in alphabetical order.”
I’m not one of those people. When I agree to something, I procrastinate by binge watching ridiculous late 90s sitcoms where the women are fabulous and the cast is whiter than a white Christmas.
In this particular sitcom, four chic and gorgeous New York City women talk men for six seasons. They live in a high society world where the rich get richer, a pair of shoes is a mere $400, and the poor are barely given a cameo. Their world actually isn’t that hard to believe.
True ridiculousness was that I was inspired by this show, specifically the season six finale. And even more ridiculous—I was inspired to write about God.
In the beginning of the finale, the characters finally begin to deal with real-life problems. As the Park Avenue princess comes to terms with her inability to have children, her and her husband struggle with finding a child to adopt. As couple, after couple back out of baby trading deals, the princess begins to wonder when God will bring her a child. Through bated breath she even sighs, “Harry, I think God has lost our address.”
And I got to thinking, at a college where my address seems to change with the seasons, where the Lutheran Center is at an Episcopalian church and our old building is just concrete and nails, has God lost our address? Am I impossible to reach? Am I alone?
Currently, it is the week before final exams at UNL and not only is that stressful, but it seems that in my second year of college, I’ve managed to lose the friends I thought I had made along the way. All of a sudden, at a college with 26,000 people, I felt alone. Unlike the women in my sitcom, I didn’t even have four friends to begin with, and then I felt like I had none. I have met so many people since coming to UNL, but I don’t feel like I could call many of them friends.
Sadly, I don’t think I’m the only person who feels like this.
We start thinking that we are alone, that no one will find us because they lost the address.
So in my sorry, procrastinating state, I was thinking about friendship when I reached the climax of my sitcom. The frizzy haired protagonist is fighting with her—get this—rich Russian artist boyfriend about the trivial pursuits of living in Paris, France when she exclaims, “I want real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other kind of love.”
In my friendlessness this cheesy proclamation sounded nice. It sounded just what I was looking for in a friend. I wanted someone to be there for me when everything around me seemed to be falling apart. I wanted someone I could trust with my secrets—even the really dark and scary ones. Then it kind of hit me. While it is nice to have friends in real life, I always had the best friend a chic girl could ask for. In my search for friendship and good grades, I forgot I had God.
No matter how many walls I put up, no matter how many boundaries I create. Even when I think I am unattainable and detached, God finds me and befriends me until my Earth best friends find me or I them.
In the end, like every good sitcom, the characters end up okay. God in fact, never lost their address. And I don’t think God’s lost ours either.