A village.

I woke up to a bunch of messages. Of love. From friends and strangers.

On days like this I remember how lucky I am. I hate to sound cliche, but my friends really are special. They travel with me. They make me come visit them. They care about everybody. They support me on bad days. Show up for my good days. When I was writing my dissertation I never got to see my friends. Time was not my friend. I always thought they'd get mad that I couldn't make my usual time for them. But they didn't. They showed up for my defense. They spilled their guts about how proud they were to be a part of my life. These friends are selfless. They volunteer. They serve a cause greater then themselves. They give more than just time.
I am reminded how special they are everyday. They don't let me just slip by because we are friends. They challenge my thoughts. They tell me the truth, even if I'm wrong. They make me own my actions, my thoughts, and my behaviors. They make me do better and be better. And in this whole mess they have never judged anyone. They have offered kindness and understanding, coupled with some disappointment. They never speak poorly of people. They see value. In every person. Every experience. They never put my choices down or others. If fighting is what I want to do, they support me and who I love and are non judgmental of me and of others mistakes. Because, they've been there. They know that the mistakes you make do not define you as a person. And I'm lucky to have friends that see the good in people. That offer their love and respect to me and everyone around me.

It really does take a village to grow into a better person.