Editor’s Note: My friend Melissa Baker recently sent me this short blog at my request. In it, she recounts a beautiful friendship. It challenged my heart and I think it will yours as well.
We met in 5th grade. Me, secure in my own little world, with my own little friends. Gwen – not so much.
I remember watching her stand one day at the glass doors in our school entryway. Her face reflecting the gray skies and pouring rain.
“What’s wrong with Gwen?” I asked. Rachel, who went to church with the sad-faced girl, answered quietly.
“Her parents are getting divorced today.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.
I wish I had.
I wish we’d become friends that year, but we didn’t. We ended up in different schools, not sparing much, if any, time or thought on the other.
Then 8th grade happened. A new Christian School was opening and, as I sat in the back of our homeroom, once again surrounded by my friends, she walked through the door.
“Gwen,” I called. She looked up, surprised. “Come back here.”
From that day on, we were friends. Friends because, in the two years that we had been apart, each of us had come to know God personally.
He had opened my heart to others.
He had opened her heart to confidence in her heavenly Father’s love.
She told me later how shocked she had been that I had been friendly to her. She said that her only trepidation about coming to the school was in knowing that I would be there.
And that shocked me. I hadn’t remembered being unkind to her.
I had just been indifferent. Indifferent to her hurt and how the exclusion my little clique heaped on her tore at her bleeding heart.
I was so thankful for a second chance.
In time, we became best friends.
And everyone knew it.
We walked through many joys and trials together, were in each other’s weddings, and had our first babies months apart.
When our husbands made plans for all of us to work together in Canada, we were beyond thrilled.
But Gwen got sick. Hepatitis. She ended up in the hospital. I took the train down to spend each night with her so her husband could go home to their two-year-old.
She would surely get better.
But she didn’t.
Then, I sat at the side of her bed and watched her take her last breath. We were 25.
It was hard.
Hardest for her husband, Marty.
A little over a year after her death, we sang as he married a beautiful young woman and started over.
I wondered if our friendship would make it. I half expected it not to.
But it did. Marty and his bride in the United States and us in Canada.
And, years later, when my husband took his life, they didn’t hesitate. They drove nearly 1,000 miles to wrap their arms around me and cry.
And still, they are there. Always. With encouragement, love, and prayer. Just recently, as my mother lay in the hospital nearing heaven, Marty, once again, made his presence and their love known.
I am blessed with many friends and have learned a few things about what makes a true friendship that will stand the test of time.
True friendship is shared laughter and, yes, experiences. It is loyalty and common goals, sacrifice, and memories. But I have come to believe that, along with the grace of God, the glue that holds a true friendship together is tears.
How grateful I am for the tears that have sealed my most precious friendships.
About the Author:
Melissa is a follower of Jesus Christ, a widow, mom, and grandmother. She loves Jesus Christ and the church. As a ladies’ speaker, experienced biblical counselor, and former pastor’s wife, a new blog under her name is under development. You can follow her new blog at melissadawnbaker.com. Explect her blog to serve as an encouragement for believers to keep their eyes on the Lord, that is, to be faithful because we know He is faithful, plus counseling resources.
An edited version of Melissa’s original post first appeared on Facebook.
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