Five years ago, a bunch of friends headed out to their very first fall break together… three nights and days spent at a cabin in rural Indiana. At the time, they were all living within walking distance of each other, in similar classes, eating meals at the same tables, and basically doing every single activity with one another. They knew they had it good. But they didn’t really know how good. So they spent those three days jumping off docks, canoeing, eating lots and lots of junk, playing one too many board games, developing cabin fever, and laughing just enough to be compared to giddy seventh graders.
The next year, life started changing. Three lived as roommates in Cincinnati and were in their senior year of college, one lived in Kentucky and had just lost her father, one had graduated and was living in Maryland with her newlywed husband, and one in North Carolina on an internship. Suddenly, they weren’t all living on the same floor or frequenting all the same places. In fact, experiences had changed them that some didn’t know about or understand, although miles separated them. Life looked different that year. And Funfetti Vacay looked different, too. The kind of different that recognizes there have been some missing inside jokes, and lots of life lived in 12 months that some didn’t know about. But it didn’t matter. They laughed for three days straight.
And then laughed some more…
And sat for hours in the glorious hot tub…
And then, best of all, ate Funfetti Cake. Thus making it, Funfetti Holiday.
The next year, life got even crazier. Two married, one engaged, all but two graduated, and a harsh thrust into adult-land had officially begun. Most of them feeling lost in the transition, but still had Funfetti. This year, as most would agree, was possibly the most difficult. Some relationships were torn, mended, and put back together. Most were in the beginning stages of the usual mid-twenties crisis. And all were feeling just a bit out of sorts. Okay, perhaps a lot bit. Their dance videos weren’t quite up to par. They didn’t laugh nearly as loud. And, as they would all admit, they all got on each other’s nerves a bit more. But still, they had Funfetti. And these women all vowed that if they could make it to this year… it would become sacred. Three years marks territory that cannot be touched. Don’t tread on Funfetti Holiday. It’s sacred. And here, in that 3rd year, the tradition was really born.
Last year, the fourth and best, was when the bow came together. Life was all over the place–one still in Maryland with her no-longer-newlywed husband, two married, one in between roommates and one living at home. The adult life they dreamed of in their first Funfetti Holiday looked nothing like any of them imagined it. Rumor is that year, they all cried in the hot tub talking about how much they missed each other, that life is nothing like you think, and that if they could, they’d all live in the same city so they could have cry-fests like this all the time.
But for some reason, God just didn’t intend that. But He gave them Funfetti Holiday. And it’s not perfect. But it’s more than enough. So. Much. More.
Here’s to you, Funfetti Holiday. You are truly sacred.