To All Those Who Have Shared My Broken Promise

I remember being in middle school, and struggling with a transition of friends.  It wasn’t that my close friends and I had shared a falling out; it was simply that my family had started attending a different church, and I no longer saw the same people as regularly.  Those sweet girls I had confided in, shared giggles with late into the night, and crowded on couches with during youth group were still dear in my heart, but living in different cities, albeit adjacent ones, was the beginning distance that grew into separate lives. 

My mom had told me previously that often times different things last only a season, and that sometimes friendships are that way as well. It’s not that you love the person less, or that you don’t think of them often; it’s that life is winding and recursive, and as it is written out sometimes intersecting paths straighten out in different directions, and sometimes they meet back up again later.  

The first time she told me that friends can last only a season I was crushed.  I was heartbroken.  I stubbornly refused to believe that I would grow up and not still be friends with those I had grown close to and loved.  I thought it would be possible for us all to keep in touch and plan hangouts.  We didn’t.

Then I joined a volleyball team and gained a new group of friends.  And those friends introduced me to their friends until the chasm I thought would be permanent was filled over abundantly.  High school started and still more shifts occurred. Next came the big changes like graduation and college, boyfriends, more time spent working and studying, and as my friends and I pursued our individual interests, my buoyant graph of close, interactive friends dipped a little lower.  On the flip-side, those that remained grew even closer.

A year and a half after graduation, I was married.  Tied the knot to my newest and closest friend.  While everyone wondered at the rapidity, my husband and I marched forward confidently hand in hand.  And just when my close-knit family and friends thought the biggest change had been signed, work contracted my husband and me across the world to live in Europe.

While my husband and I would share an adventure together, we would be saying goodbye to so many other people.  What I once considered a major transition in my childhood world was about to double, triple, quadruple -a thousand times in a new way.  The distance between me and my parents, sister, cousins, bridesmaids, friends, would be continental and ocean deep.  I would not be facing merely the distance of a different city, but of a different country.

And as I saw my friends and family one last time before the flight, as I said goodbyes not knowing when or if I would see them again before I left, my old stubbornness resurfaced.   I told them I would write.  We would plan Skype dates.  I would send emails.  We would remain as close as before.  I promised to keep in touch.  I promised that though the change seemed daunting, these friendships that had already lasted five or six years would continue to grow and flourish despite this newest transition.

While our correspondence was decent at the beginning, another year and half has passed.  My husband and I have been married for two years now and are currently raising a nine month old.  Life has continued to twist and change, to blossom and flourish in different directions.  My friends are taking internships, graduating college, planning mission’s trips, studying abroad, getting engaged, and marrying.  New friends are having babies, raising eight-year-old's, and running day cares.  I am chasing a dog and wrestling and independent first born.  And it’s hitting me.

I’m finally realizing there is a reason correspondence is a fourteen letter word.  It is a lengthy task and weighty responsibility.  It sounds easy in a promise and proves difficult in action.  It’s a door that swings both ways but can be heavy to push.  Far too often, it becomes a torn page in a once cherished book.  Aspects of the friendship begin missing, but the spine- those memories creased in our hearts- tenaciously hold parts together.  Sometimes, a friendship that I thought would go on in volumes is only turning out to be a short story, and that’s OK. 

Spring, summer, fall, and winter all serve a purpose of renewal and growth for the earth.  I think that though it saddens us, we need to remember that friendships that last only a season still have meaning and value.  Keeping in touch is not a strength of mine.  Attempting to stay in the loop with everyone is an impossible task that allows for no progression with where we are at now.  We all have new priorities, goals, responsibilities, and relationships.  For me, my husband and son will always take precedence.

So for those of you who are missing more than one page. . .  I am sorry my promise grew empty.  I am sorry it seems or feels as if our friendship was only a season, but I am thankful for the impact you have had on my life.  I am blessed with the memories we did get to make.  I am ready and willing to plan the occasional Skype date, to write a quick message, or plan a lengthy chat.  But I am not going to promise consistency.  I am not going to promise that we will remain as close as if we lived next door to each other.  What I will say is that my heart will always have a place for you.  Perhaps someday this season too will be over, and our paths will intersect once more.