Monday, August 18, 2014
He Who Has a Friend . . .
A friend isn’t one who follows me, no matter where I may lead.
But it’s a person who walks beside me, sometimes arm in arm, other times with a small distance between us, giving me room to make my decisions, supporting me whether they agree or not, encouraging me in my endeavors, laughing and crying with me. Yet that invisible link connects us as friends and sisters.
I’ve had, and have, those kind of friends:
My mother who has listened and let me have her sandwich anyway even after I said, no, I didn’t want one. She’s the person who’s cried with me and laughed and shared and been there forever.
Walking Beside Me
My husband who vowed to love and cherish me, who’s supported and encouraged and walked beside me when I’m afraid and nervous and lonesome. His love and friendship is deeper because he’s shared some of the same burdens as I have.
My friend Dreama. We may see each other once, or twice if time and circumstances are convenient, but the laughter and shared confidences are priceless. We laugh over silly arguments with husbands, our grandchildren, and life in general. Our friendship is solid, and I know will continue through the rest of our years.
Connie, my sister-in-law, who’s love of children and of family and her husband--my brother--are two values high on my list. She understands and is supportive because she’s been there in certain circumstances. She’s generous because she knows what it feels like to be chosen as second best continually. She’s understanding because of the years of our connection and because she’s just made that way.
Those with whom I’ve lost contact but have recently reconnected. Those who I see occasionally. Those whose lives have taken different roads than I’ve traveled upon, but who share some instance in the past with me. Some I only know online and have never met. Generous acts, small or big, make them valuable.
And God. The best friend a person could ask for. One who goes far and above what we could ask. The one who understands us better than we do ourselves; the one who loves us best.
May I be there for a mother who’s suffering from dementia now, to understand and love and share with her as much as she has me. May I support my husband’s projects and walk beside him every step of his journey. May I continue friendship with people like Dreama and Connie and all the others who’ve walked beside me. May I laugh and rejoice with them as they have me. May I be as faithful of a friend as they have been to me.
And may I most of all, be the kind of friend who trusts and believes God knows best for my life, and support his decisions for me as he has for my desires and life.