Here's to you, Mrs. Horrocks

I know that at some point she will read this, so it probably comes off as being a kiss ass, but have I ever told you how much I absolutely love, love, love my friend Sara (Powell) Horrocks? This is my friend that I mention often who lives in Germany- and she's pretty much the greatest thing since sliced bread. That's her in the picture above.

I met Sara when I had first moved into the Huntington Beach 5th ward at church. I had lived in HB6th for pretty much my whole life and I remember being terrified to move. All of my best friends that I had were in 6th, girls that I had known since I was literally still in diapers. I was really reluctant to befriend anybody in 5th ward when I moved there because I was so mad to have moved away from pretty much the only friends I had known. And on top of that, here I was moving into a ward where all of the girls were in the same boat- they'd been friends since the dawn of time and a lot of them were cousins or somehow related... I didn't realize at the time that was because this ward was so awesome that most people didn't want to move away from it once they'd grown up and had families of their own.

I remember meeting Sara, but I can't quite remember when. She seemed to be quite comfortable with me right off the bat, but I was intimidated by this tell-it-like-it-is stranger. I can remember wearing a tank top dress (not exactly the Mormon dress code) and Sara coming up to me several times and simply saying, "Umm... nice tank top, Megan!" in kind of a teasing way. I might be imagining but she may have even put the word "slutty" in there somewhere. Nothing like that would surprise me from Sara. But Sara never made me feel like she disliked me, instead I knew that when she teased me like that it meant that we were somehow now friends. Weird, right? I remember being kind of blown away by statements like that because no one else would dare say anything offensive to "the new girl," but Sara did what she felt was right by letting me know that wasn't "cool" to dress like that there. I know this whole thing sounds totally bizarre, but those were terms of endearment and familiarity for me.

I remember one time, when we were maybe 14 or 15, and I had a HUGE crush on this boy at church. He, of course like most boys, liked Sara. I was sooo jealous! I was in a classroom at church and he and Sara were innocently flirting, and I remember that I left the room and had told a couple of his friends that he and Sara were "all over each other in there." Of course they ran to go see, and came back complaining about how much of a liar I was. I somehow managed to mutter that what I had actually said (I hadn't) was that they were "all alone with each other in there." It's funny how ridiculous I was at that age. The whole story still cracks me up every time I think of it. (By the way: in case I never told you, sorry about that one, Sara!)


Later in high school I went through my rebellion from church-related things and Sara and I stopped hanging out as much. But, and here's my point about her, Sara never stopped being my friend. Even when I would report back to her about these really dumb things that I was doing, Sara always accepted me for who I was and never for the choices I made. She has never, not once to this day, made me feel uncomfortable to tell her anything I have done that may not have been to her standards. I guess it all must stem back to myself, her, and that tank top dress. I just always knew that Sara would probably tell me I was dumb, but always love me just the same. This is why she is a great parent and will always be one.


We touch base every now and then. I got to visit her in Hawaii once and she comes home to visit from Europe. I wouldn't say that Sara and I are best friends or that I expect to be closer than we are now. That's the great thing about Sara... you can just "be" with her, and that's enough. I would be willing to bet that any person in her life feels special and lucky to have part in that experience.



So, well... Sara: you're great. I like you.
Thanks for telling me I dressed like a slut when I was 14. (Haha...)