One of the people I love most in this world celebrates a milestone birthday today. Her name is Lisa, and although we live a continent apart, she is in my heart and on my mind every single day. Lisa is funny, kind, and just kooky enough to join me in odd adventures, like spontaneous chocolate frosting food fights, photo above. She has exceptional culinary skills, a gorgeous garden, and has dedicated more than twenty years to a career in women’s health, where her compassion radiates like a bright flame.
Our friendship began with an empathetic impulse and a spontaneous hundred-yard dash. I was only fifteen when Lisa and I met, but somehow I already recognized that empathy wasn’t just a thought or emotion; it was a feeling in my body, something I often sensed in my abdomen.
Lisa arrived at our high school in late March, transferring at a time when most students had already cleaved into cliques, packs, and teams. She had physical education at the same time as I did, fourth period, just before lunch. Though the campus had two different phys ed teachers, all the girls shared one locker room.
I’d just arrived to PE when two of my friends called me over. “Hey Carol, come meet the new girl.” Tracy and Cheryl introduced me to Lisa, who had recently moved to California after several years living in Montana. We exchanged a few words…I don’t remember what, probably simple pleasantries…and then I went back to my locker to dress out.
Lisa was in the same PE class as Tracy and Cheryl; I was with the other teacher. I don’t remember thinking about Lisa as my class ran laps that morning. It’s not that she didn’t make an impression; she absolutely did. She was cute and warm, with lively eyes and a sweet smile. I also remember thinking it was cool that she wore overalls; they gave her an edgy, fun look. But to say she was on my mind as I plodded around the dusty track would be a lie.
When PE class ended, there was a mad dash back to the locker room. Everyone wanted to change quickly and claim one of the prime picnic tables, the ones close to the quad and away from the chaos of the cafeteria. By the time I got outside, Tracy, Cheryl, and a few other friends were already seated at one of the best tables, talking and laughing in the bright spring sun.
I sat down at the end of the bench and pulled out my sack lunch. That’s when I noticed Lisa across the quad, alone, placing something into her book locker. No other students were in that area. Our lunch break was so short, most kids crammed in as much time as they could with friends before the bell rang to return to classrooms.
In a flash, I was out of my seat and sprinting across the quad. I wasn’t thinking; I was simply reacting. Something ached deep in my stomach when I saw Lisa standing alone, a cold sinking discomfort. A voice in my head said: You’ve got to go get her. Now!
I crossed the 300 feet between the picnic tables and the wall of lockers in seconds. But once I got to Lisa’s side, I realized I had no idea what to say. My actions were entirely unplanned. I hadn’t told my friends at the table what I was doing, hadn’t asked one of them to come with me, and had no clever icebreaker ready. I stumbled over my words and said something like, “Uhh… do you want to have lunch with me and my friends?”
I’ll never forget the look on Lisa’s face. Her smile was like sunshine breaking through morning fog, the tension on her face melting into relief. Together we walked back to the picnic table, and onward into a multi-decade friendship.
When I think of Lisa, I’m so grateful I listened to my body, to that gut-level sense of empathy that urged me to act. I was only a high school freshman, but I somehow already understood that empathy isn’t just felt in the heart or understood in the mind. Empathy lives in the body.
Acting on that feeling, on that warm March day, remains one of the best choices I’ve ever made.
Happy Birthday, Li. I love you so, so, so much.
This just gives me enough heart warmth for the rest of the day. Thank you ❤️