Lead, Kindly Light

Something was greatly amiss tonight, and I had to get away to think and pray about it for a while. I knew something was bothering me, but couldn’t tell which combination of the few-but-frequent usual suspects was to blame. I came back, and you had texted me — and seamlessly you managed to have us slip away for an hour-long walk around this neighborhood. Probably not the most appropriate thing for the formal occasion, but in hindsight, certainly the most necessary thing. Thank you for knowing that I needed that, and creating space for it.

You have these moments when you teach me things. Generally they are tucked away somewhere in neat packages and hidden amid the usual course of banter or random musings about any variety of topics that typically consume our times together. I never know when one of these neat packages will make its way to the doorstep of my day.

It’s always a surprise, in timing and in form. Sometimes it comes in a letter postmarked with a stamp. Sometimes it comes in a three-hour conversation as we sit on some fallen log in the thick of a little forest replete with leaves of magnificent colors in the coolness of autumn. Sometimes it comes as sunset turns to dusk and dusk melts into evening, as we click our dress shoes down brick sidewalks for a full hour. As we did today. Though we were completely out of place (with me decked out in my satin dress and you strolling around in your newly tailored suit), we were absolutely where we needed to be. And…that was my little surprise of the day, a surprise that meant a lot to me, because it came at the right time, and love really does heal a whole host of things.

You acknowledged my fears about the present time — a seemingly benign time of joy and commencement, friends and families and gatherings — and explained that the underlying inexplicable sadness is not that great a mystery after all, because we’re in the throes of a great time of transition, change, and flux. The life we’ve known for the past three years, which was, in some ways, idyllic (”nerd playground” for you, and “finally finding a family” for me), is about to end.

You also explained to me that meaningful friendships take a lot of work, and that they require both adaptation and accommodation. I darted a sharp and frustrated glance at you when you said that, and insisted that you understand that such a concept is far from epiphanic in my world. But you had a point to make, and it came in an implied form: if you understand that friendships require giving and taking, why do you insist on doing the giving and not also insist on doing some taking? I couldn’t find the words to explain to you that I DO like to do some taking, but I hate having to ask for it. In struggling to articulate my thoughts, I had to confront my own wish that my friends, my loved ones, you — could just magically understand me enough to just “get it” and give “it” without my explicit request. Like how you texted me, and gently but firmly whisked me outside today. You knew it was what I needed. I wish it were always like that. I know that’s not realistic… I’m just saying.

Then you started your oral essay on friendship. Great friendships are tested and strengthened on conflicts, confrontations, and consequent resolutions grounded in forthrightness, and honesty. Special friendships (like ours, you predict) will last well into the years when you and I grow old because the letters will continue, efforts will be made, and … somehow, you theorize, even after life gets in the way — we will still have the incredible blessing of the sheer magnitude of the great friendship we currently share, and that alone establishes a bond that will last basically forever.

“I hope you’re right,” I murmured.

“I know I am,” you replied, with your usual bravado that makes me sometimes smirk with a raised eyebrow, and other times makes me shake my head and laugh. I called you on it, and you insisted that this time you meant it. I really do hope you’re right.

The biggest thing you taught me today was not from anything that you said, per se — but just by what you did. Specifically, you put your grand theory into practice in the context of our friendship. You proved to me that our friendship is a truly great one, one that can survive the tests of conflicts, confrontations, and consequent resolutions, strengthened by the rigorous demands of honesty.

You let me talk about things that were weighing on my heart, and let me revisit questions that have been left unresolved in my mind. With your tacit permission and invitation, we spoke openly again about that which we pondered and prayed about for a healthy period of time this semester. We talked about wrongs and rights, and forgiveness.

I was reassured that your decision was born of daily prayer, meticulous thought, and a lot of love. And the puzzle pieces began to resolve with one another once we together put the chronology in order (however awkward it may have been) and you filled my request to narrate your thought processes along the way. Everything made a lot more sense. I won’t ever fully get it, but the most important questions have been answered. And the rest I can just leave up to God.

Any other friendship might have toppled under the type of pressure we’ve put it under lately — but as you said, “We’re going to bounce back to that place of security again, it’s just a matter of time.” And I totally agree.

It turned out all right after all. Now is the time for healing, for strengthening, for growing. And the implications of today’s healing goes beyond just the relationship between you and me. It makes me understand and realize that this type of healing, and this type of strength in a relationship is possible. This depth of love in action is real in at least one corner of the world. That is an amazing gift for this particular spirit, which falls increasing prone to cynicism. I thank God in every remembrance of you.