Since before the last millennium, Friend Glenda and I have celebrated each other on our birthdays. We’ve lunched at home and restaurants; picnicked under pines and strolled beside lakes. Once we spent an afternoon making each other friendship books filled with quotes and collages.

This year, before I turned the calendar over to April and found her birthday circled there, Glenda called. “I want to do something different on my birthday. I’d like take a vanload of women on a healthy shopping and eating trip.”

“You WHAT?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. I know my friend well. For years, she and her medical practitioner husband have deeply invested their lives in improving the health of others. Over our long friendship, I’ve watched her passion grow and observed with delight as her voluntary influence in our community has widened in lovely, healing ripples.

As a nutritional consultant who lives what she preaches (and shows it) Glenda has helped scores of people (including me) gain vitality—and recovery—after experiencing thorny medical problems. Her prescription? A simple, wholesome lifestyle anchored in healthful cooking and eating.

On the morning of her birthday, seven females—hauling everything from purses to coolers—streamed into Glenda’s vehicle. Two hours later she pulled the van into our first stop, eager to park it and market.

All day we followed each other in and out of the crannied nooks of healthy food and bargain stores. We laughed at each others’ stories and bought what each other bought.

At lunch most of us ordered Jivin’ Jerk bowls, served with chopsticks, at Regina’s 13th Ave. Coffee House. At supper most of us sipped Booster Juice. We shopped until evening. Driving home, we chatted like schoolgirls and passed around snacks: dried mulberries, cashews, pretzels, and rice chips. I forgot I’d purchased sun-dried tomatoes, or I’d have passed those around too.

A few of us had been strangers that morning. By day’s end, we’d discussed our faith journeys, horseback riding, medical histories, courtship secrets (punishable by saturated fat and hydrogenated oil, if revealed) and a second shopping trip. By the end of the day, we’d become friends.

A common denominator united us: Glenda’s well-studied wisdom had made a difference in our lives. We were all healthier because we’d listened to the things she’d taught us. Whatever we were before, we were not the same now. We all spoke of her, I noticed, with love on our tongues.

I got up and walked early this morning; strode fast and long in the yawning countryside. I saw beautiful things. Newborn pussy willows. Dumpling clouds. Burgundy cattle feeding in one long line, their gangly-legged calves fidgeting alongside.

The Creator of that beauty is a friend of mine. My deepening relationship with him has both changed me and profoundly altered my destiny. And as has happened with Glenda, my friendship with Jesus Christ has introduced me to numerous friends. All needy, we call him Savior.

And we speak of him, too, with love on our tongues.