Silver and Gold: The Gift of Friends

Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver, and the other is gold.

Living in the parsonage next door to my church brought with it a fierce temptation to run for cover on Sunday mornings. At war with my longing for good friends was my compulsion to avoid awkward post-service conversations. I loved my friends; it was the process from acquaintance to bosom friend that killed me. Voices in my head told me the happy groups chatting in the foyer didn’t need one more person. But I was in a new place with new people as a mom of two preschoolers. To build a life here, I needed friends.

God always knew I needed friends. The proof started before I was even born as my mom discovered one of her Lamaze classmates attended the same church she did. My first friendship was born before I was.

Kim and I grew up together. She was the blond to my brunette, the laughter to my serious, and the active to my laid back. She provided an anchor of belonging to my little heart. I can’t remember my elementary school days without Kim’s face connected to fun times.

God added another layer when I tested out of my reading group in first grade. The school wanted to advance me further than my mom was comfortable. The compromise was to advance me with another girl to a level that made both moms comfortable. It turned out Gretchen didn’t only go to my school; she also lived four blocks down the street from me. We wore a path between our houses experiencing the best and hardest pieces of growing up.

Going to a new school for eighth grade—alone—felt like torture. I held my eyes open wide as we drove so tears wouldn’t drop onto my carefully mascara-ed eyelashes. I’d never had to make friends on my own before, and I felt sure the only ones I had were a result of my two besties’ sparkle. But God had a plan. Within two weeks, I had friends. At graduation, we took a group photo, and I told my mom, “It would be impossible to ever find friends this good again.”

God might have laughed just then.

I couldn’t see his hand yet. It took a few more years of perspective for my rearview mirror to clear. As I headed to college, three states away, where I didn’t have any girlfriends, I felt the familiar fear in my belly—yet with it a slight niggle of anticipation. I realized God had never left me without deep friends for long. Never. My “silly concerns” seemed to be cares he willingly wanted to carry.

Knowing he was working wasn’t magic. It didn’t take away the need for brave introductions or first meals together with stalled conversations. I still got sweaty, yet knowing he had given me good friends before spurred me on with hope.

Waiting paid off when I met my second-semester roommate. Her name was Rachel, and she became my kindred spirit. She celebrated my engagement by buying a goldfish for our dorm room and drove three states over to stand up with me as I said, “I do.”

During this period of my life, God surprised me with a new/old friend. I have one sister three years younger than me, Kathy. A three-year age difference is enough to keep you in separate life stages most of the time you’re growing up. We poked each other more often than we shared deep secrets then. Yet something magical happened when she joined me three states away. We were both “grown-ups.” Rachel and Kathy became friends, and it dawned on me that Kathy and I could be friends too! Adding the sweetness of shared history to the pleasures of a kindred-spirit friend has defined my friendship with my sister.

Here I am today, twenty-two years after those sweaty moments of indecision in the church foyer. Confidence in God’s hand made me hang around. It made me willing to give new friendships the time they require to simmer and gain flavor. And it gave me my current group of good friends who would be impossible to replace.

I’m so glad I didn’t run so that God could do his work. One of the girls I met that day had a baby boy two months before mine was born. Our sons grew up in the church nursery together like Kim and I did. This year, our boys had their own baby boys a couple of months apart. Another girl asked me to breakfast and has spent the last two decades pushing me to dream big and make goals. Another kicked me in the butt, literally, and required me to take vitamins when I had four preschoolers. Another looked confidently into my eyes and told me to take the scariest step I faith I ever imagined, and then let me watch her take her own. One of my girlfriends lives just down the road, so our daughters grew up together like Gretchen and I did. Her kitchen table and soft shoulder have caught many of my unexpected tears. My friends have folded my laundry, danced to make me laugh, and pushed my faith farther.

We’ve navigated the most challenging of times and circumstances together: divorces, miscarriages, adoptions, international moves, wayward children, and aging parents. We’ve multiplied each other’s joys in each hospital room as our babies were born, over Friday coffees, on mission trips, and even in group social media chats. (Have you tried the Marco Polo app?)

My whole life long, God has been there, showing me his love through the gift of friends. Sometimes the process was uncomfortable and required me to grow when growth was his plan. Sometimes I had to wait when contentment was his plan. Sometimes he overwhelmed me with sweet friendships when comfort was his plan. Friends are one of God’s best gifts.

The old saying about friends is true. I’m a rich woman who has more than her share of silver and gold. I’m so grateful that God’s good plan included using women like these to help me trust him more.

Lori Florida lives a life that is all about her people. She’s convinced that being Mrs. to one and Mommy to eight will be her most significant way to serve Jesus. She wants to use her life to cheer on and coach the women around her. She is on staff with Project Hopeful working to give a hand up to moms in poverty in Ethiopia. You can find her at loriflorida.com.

Photograph © Bewakoof, used with permission