Eight o\u2019clock, Sunday morning. I pushed open the door to Scottsdale Bible Church and the familiar sounds of the orchestra rehearsing brought back a rush of sweet memories.<\/p>\n
For years I had played the cello in that orchestra. I loved playing for the congregation every week\u2014the fellowship, the praise music, even the rehearsals\u2014everything about it. Back then I was happy and fulfilled. A wife and stay-at-home mom.<\/p>\n
Now, after living in California for two years, I was back here in Arizona. Divorced. My daughters were away at college. For the first time in my life I felt truly alone.<\/p>\n
I slumped onto the empty back pew and reached for a tissue in my purse. Lately, I carried them everywhere. I never knew when the tears might start up again.<\/p>\n
I wanted so badly to play in the orchestra again, to go back to something that had brought me so much joy, but I just couldn\u2019t face anyone. What if they asked me how things were? What would I tell them? That my 29-year marriage was a failure? That my world had imploded? That I was alone?<\/p>\n
If only Emily were here, <\/em>I thought. She would understand.<\/em><\/p>\n Emily and I met my fifth year with the orchestra. We sat next to each other\u2014she, the only violist and me, the only cellist among a sea of violinists. The first few weeks we made small talk and it seemed like the orchestra was all we had in common.<\/p>\n Emily, a single mom, was a busy accountant. I came to rehearsals in jeans and a T-shirt; Emily was usually decked out in a smart tailored suit, having come straight from her office or a meeting with clients.<\/p>\n But one day I noticed that her cheeks were wet with tears. What could make this beautiful, strong woman so sad? <\/em>I wondered. Suddenly I felt the strangest urging in my heart.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you want to go to breakfast tomorrow before work?\u201d I asked, thinking she could use someone to talk to.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d like that,\u201d she said. The next day we met up at a caf\u00e9. We talked about the orchestra, our kids, nothing too deep. We really hit it off. Soon we were meeting at the caf\u00e9 every week, sharing our lives over oatmeal and mugs of steaming coffee\u2014black, no sugar, just the way we both liked it.<\/p>\n One day I got brave enough to get a little more personal. I finally asked Emily what had made her cry that day at practice. \u201cA few years ago my husband left me and our four children,\u201d she said. \u201cNot long after that, he died.\u201d<\/p>\n I was floored. All this time she had been carrying around a deep, private pain. I marveled again at how different her life was from mine. I couldn\u2019t imagine being a single mom with such heavy responsibilities. \u201cHow do you do it all?\u201d I asked her.<\/p>\n \u201cAt first, things were really, really hard, but there wasn\u2019t time to stop and think about it all,\u201d Emily said. \u201cI just had to move forward. Tears became a fact of my life. I know someday they will stop, but in the meantime I always have a tissue handy.\u201d Then she smiled in spite of herself.<\/p>\n Her honesty made me open up too. I told her how my husband had been out of work for several months. That the stress was taking a toll on our marriage and that we might have to move.<\/p>\n \u201cGive your worries to God,\u201d she said confidently. \u201cHe\u2019s there to guide you.\u201d<\/p>\n From there, we talked about our faith, shared Bible verses and prayer requests. We kept up with our weekly breakfasts and shared news of other things in our lives\u2014her latest hikes, my volunteer work.<\/p>\n Then my husband found a job in California. Although we\u2019d moved many times throughout our marriage, change was never easy for me. And with both of our daughters away in college, I wondered how I would fill my days without my good friend. I met Emily at our caf\u00e9 to tell her the news.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t worry, Robin,\u201d she said. \u201cYou\u2019ll find new friends. And we\u2019ll stay close. God will make a way for you and be with you every step. He always has been.\u201d<\/p>\n In the midst of packing up to move, I worked on another project\u2014a gift to leave with Emily.<\/p>\n I\u2019d been reading through the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, and I remembered one of my favorite verses, from Hosea 2:15: \u201cHere I will give back her vineyards to her, and transform her valley of troubles into a door of hope. She will respond to me there, singing with joy…\u201d<\/p>\n I found a photo of a door online and superimposed the verse over it, printed it and put it in a simple silver frame. At our last breakfast, I presented it to Emily.<\/p>\n \u201cI hope this reminds you that although you have faced hard things in your life, you are going to walk through that door of hope one day. I just know it.\u201d I hugged her tightly and said goodbye.<\/p>\n Once in California, I struggled to find a rhythm. My husband was consumed by his work and I spent most of my time alone. I planted flowers in our garden, joined a health club, eventually made some new friends. But there was a heaviness in my heart that I just couldn\u2019t shake.<\/p>\n I e-mailed Emily about it. \u201cI\u2019m praying for you,\u201d she wrote back. \u201cYou\u2019re going to be just fine.\u201d<\/p>\n But things only went from bad to worse. My brother-in-law died unexpectedly, my husband\u2019s company was sold, leaving him unemployed once again, and the pressure built up in our marriage. I stopped writing to Emily or even talking much to anyone.<\/p>\n I thought marriage counseling would help. We gave it a try. A few months later, though, my husband announced that he would not continue the counseling\u2014or the marriage. He would stay in California and I would return to Arizona. Alone.<\/p>\n Numbly, I began the arduous task of trying to move forward and start over.<\/p>\n Sitting in the back pew that Sunday morning clutching a tissue, I thought about the last two years. The heartache, the unknowns of my future, my constant tears. And I thought of Emily. I\u2019d lost track of her. How ironic, <\/em>I thought. Now I\u2019m the one crying.<\/em><\/p>\n After the service, I mustered up my courage and went backstage. I saw a violinist I\u2019d once played with. \u201cDo you know where Emily is?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, didn\u2019t you hear?\u201d she asked, looking surprised.<\/p>\n \u201cHear what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEmily reconnected with her high school sweetheart sometime last year,\u201d she said. \u201cThey got married and she moved to New Jersey. I\u2019ve got her new e-mail. And, say, you should come back to the orchestra. We can always use another cello.\u201d<\/p>\n I mumbled thanks, scribbled down Emily\u2019s new address and hurried off before anyone could ask me any more questions.<\/p>\n Back home I typed out a short e-mail to Emily, congratulating her on her new life and wishing her every happiness. I told her that my life had also changed\u2014but not for the better.<\/p>\n \u201cEmily, when we first met, I wanted to encourage you,\u201d I wrote. \u201cNow, it seems that our circumstances have completely reversed. Any advice you might have for me would be so helpful. Love, Robin.\u201d I ended the note and hit send.<\/p>\n The next day I checked my e-mail\u2014there was a message from Emily!<\/p>\n