Friends.
The word makes me smile. Besides family, friends are life’s greatest blessings.
Sometimes, friendships are borne out of mutual circumstance—for a reason. Sometimes, friendships are brief, but no less meaningful, and last for a season.
Still, other friendships—those that begin as tiny, fragile seeds only to burst forth in full bloom—hijack our hearts for a lifetime.
Whether they exist for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, friends enrich our lives and color our world.
They make us laugh.
Cry.
Think.
Reach.
Believe.
Love.
Grow.
Many years ago, a dear friend and I met at our favorite bookstore to talk about books, writing, and what was new in each other’s lives.
We scoped out small, quiet niches in the coffee shop section, ordered delicious cups of tea, and spent hours savoring not only the tea but also each other’s company. We valued our time together.
In addition, I helped Debbie* through a rough patch. Though she was a little older than I, our friendship was one of those rare, immediate connections I was certain would last forever.
We grew close and talked often. Rarely did a day go by that we didn’t chat about something.
Debbie and I marked various holidays, birthdays, and events with mutual gifts. They weren’t costly things—just little tokens to commemorate the occasion.
One day during our tea time at the bookstore, Debbie said she had something to tell me.
She fiddled with a tissue and rushed her next words. “We’re moving, Cindy. Mike’s* decided to take that early retirement he’s talked about for years.”
My heart tripped. Why did I get the feeling the other shoe was about to drop? Debbie’s husband wasn’t even forty-five yet. “Moving? You mean to a new town?”
Debbie glanced down at her teacup. “You could say that. A new state, actually.”
“A new state? Where?”
“Virginia. A retirement community. Perfectville—everything we’ve always dreamed of.”
Hmm. Virginia was a far cry from the Ozarks.
As Debbie filled me in on some of the details, she remained vague on others. Our conversation grew strained and disconnected. Still, we resolved to stay in touch.
Before Debbie moved, we exchanged gifts—for a final time. The moment hung suspended.
I watched as she traced the gold lettering with her fingertips. “A Bible…and you had my name engraved. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She then flipped open the cover and turned a few pages. As she read my inscription, her eyes misted. She squeezed my hand. “I’ll treasure this.”
“I’m so glad. I thought you might like it.”
“I do.”
Debbie handed me a package. Inside was a beautiful ceramic teapot—an English cottage covered in ivy and roses.
“Oh, Debbie…it’s perfect. I love it.”
“Maybe when you have a cup of tea, you’ll think of me. You’ve been a great friend, Cindy. The best.”
“You, too.”
We stood and embraced.
We communicated for several months after Debbie moved. Then one day, there was no response. I tried again. Still nothing.
She’s probably still getting settled in her new town…
After about the fourth attempt, the realization hit me. Our friendship had ended.
Debbie had a new life.
She’d moved on.
My stomach ached with the knowledge.
Almost eleven years passed with no further word from my friend. Then one day…while shopping, there she was! My heart tumbled to my knees.
It had been over a decade since we’d seen each other—since she’d moved away to begin a new life. I didn’t even know she was back in the state.
I studied Debbie from across the store. Tall, slender, blond, and smiling—she hadn’t changed much. She glowed.
For a moment, I just stood there silently absorbing my friend’s presence.
What was the likelihood of us running into each other—in the middle of a crowded superstore chain in the very town she’d moved from over a decade ago?
This area wasn’t developed yet when Debbie moved. The library branch hadn’t been built then, and certainly, neither had the superstore. Debbie never shopped on this side of town because she’d previously lived in the other direction. It was inconvenient.
My mind reeled. It’s her. It’s Debbie.
After all this time—there she was strolling down the seafood aisle in the same town she’d moved from and in a store that didn’t used to be there. To be honest, I thought she still lived in “perfectville” (as she’d once called it).
“Debbie?”
A flicker of surprise danced across her face and eased into a smile.
“Cindy?” Then… “Cindy! How are you?”
“Good. And you?”
My heart seesawed. Baffled, yet thrilled, the moment rushed past.
It was one of those greeting card commercials where two long-lost friends fall together in a hug and catch up on everything that’s happened over the last decade.
But unlike the commercial, our reunion seemed awkward, our words, merely surface.
Something just wasn’t right. The connection we’d once shared was no longer there. Fifteen minutes of small talk couldn’t justify eleven years of silence.
Regret morphed into irritation.
Still trying to salvage the memory of our friendship, I asked for her new cell number, but there was no mistake—Debbie’s eyes mirrored the truth.
“Uh… okay.” She recovered quickly, another smile replacing the briefest hesitation. “Now, let me have yours.”
I rattled off my number.
And just like that, it was over.
We both mumbled some kind parting words and turned to continue our shopping.
After weeks of hoping, I knew there’d be no call or text because weeks slid into months. And months became a year.
I determined not to be bitter—even when I ran into Debbie yet again at a nearby tea room a year after that.
However…sadness pierced my heart and held it for ransom. Then…resentment took root.
Besides being her friend, there was a time when I cared for Debbie during a difficult life season. I invested in our relationship. Years of silence and then suddenly reconnecting left me feeling used and conflicted.
I continued to replay snippets of our reunion in the superstore chain.
“I…missed you… Didn’t know where you were… Even searched the obituaries…”
Really? In this techy age of internet and Google?
Debbie’s words rebounded off my heart like rubber darts.
I prayed. I asked God for clarity.
Though there were no lightning bolt moments, I focused on the here and now—what I knew and what I sensed I must do.
I accepted the fact Debbie no longer wanted our friendship, but I didn’t understand why.
For a long time, I resented her silence—and her lack of explanation. Didn’t I deserve that at least?
I realized I had to change my mindset—I had to let go. I had to move on.
Was it easy?
No.
The right thing?
Yes.
I’ve thought a lot about our chance meetings. Since I don’t believe anything is happenstance, I recognize and accept those times now for what they were: divine appointments.
Over the years, I wondered about Debbie. There wasn’t a sense of closure when she moved. I believe those moments in the superstore and even in the tea room were God’s way of orchestrating some semblance of perspective for me.
Since God brings people into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, I trust His plan is perfect.
I was there for Debbie when it mattered. We were friends for a reason and a season.
And now that season’s passed, I realize my life is richer because of my friend’s fleeting but lifelong thumbprint.
Godspeed, dear Debbie.
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*Names have been changed.
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PLEASE SHARE
When friendships are short-lived or forever. What we learn.
Sowing, growing, and moving on…or not. Putting friendship into perspective.
Our friends exist for a reason. What God teaches us.
Original Image Credit: Marusya/Pixabay
GOOD THOUGHTS
Sweet Friendship: The Reunion That Took 25 Years
What’s the longest friendship you’ve had?
What have your friendships taught you?
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Comments 6
ohhhhh, I can feel your sadness and hurt. The ‘no reason’ thing? That makes me ache deep down to my heart. I’ve been through this, on more than one occasion. But I had to teach myself this: that they don’t want to spend time with me IS my loss, but their loss is greater, because they walked away from a nice person, and the friendship they gave away will never be back.
Many times when this happens, the person perceives something happening and disconnects out of a miscommunication, or a misconception. As great as the friendship was, it hinged on something intangible. If that person can’t bring herself to fight for your time? In the long run, she is not worth the price of admission on that emotional rollercoaster.
Author
Jennifer, thank you so much for weighing in. I love your perspective.
There were some additional issues at play in my friend’s life, so when she relocated, I think she really just wanted to close the chapter on anything connected with the past. In retrospect, the break probably wasn’t about our friendship but more about her desire to “start over.” And yet—it hurt.
I concur. Friendship is a true treasure. Relentless hope and long-suffering tenacity are wonderful qualities. Nevertheless, those qualities make it difficult to let go. What a great God we serve! Thank you for sharing your heart.
Author
Julia, thank you for wise truths, my friend.
Dear Cynthia … this is so sad. My heart would feel broken. As I read this, I was thinking that there was more going on in her life than what was in the picture. I am thinking that she needed and most likely still needs prayer. I feel sad for you going through this. I would feel very much the same as you. But, I still feel that “Debbie” is hurting deeply and prayer at this point is most likely the only thing to do. Warmest hugs to you as you trust God and His plan in all of this. Blessings & Hugs ♥ Teri
Author
Teri, many years have passed since that time, but yes, I think there were a lot of factors at play in my friend’s life. It was a poignant season, but I’m thankful for the bond we once shared. I believe God worked in the situation, and I’m grateful He allowed our paths to cross once more. Thank you for your sweet words and compassion. Hugs to you, my friend!