It is always the hardest seasons that bring forth the most growth in my life. So it has been with mixed emotions recently that I have dug deep and begun to remove the old to make room for the new. This is definitely hardest when it comes to people.
I have always thought friendships should last forever. Every single time I am wrong, I cry like a newborn who is abandoned and starving. It hurts my heart to lose someone who once knew my favorite treats, my hardest days, my moods and my secrets. I do not throw my heart open easily, and I am careful with promises. The end of a friendship feels like failure to me.
With all of that in mind, I feel that I have apologies to make. A recent challenge to purge the old, prepare for the new, and preserve the good has redefined my heart.
At the end of a growing season, the fruit is harvested from the garden. When there is excess, much of it is preserved, or prepared for storage. If one were to place the fresh food on the counter and simply leave it there, regardless of how much water and sunlight and company it receives, the food would rot. It must be preserved while it is still good and fresh.
Preserved food still nourishes. In fact, once you have made pickles or jam/jelly and sealed the lid, you can even choose whether the food will nourish your household or someone else's. I am coming to understand that friendship is the same way.
It is my duty to determine whether a friendship has been given to me for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Friendships given for a reason typically identify themselves quickly: You know when you encounter someone who meets a need in your life. The difficulty for me has been differentiating between the seasonal and lifetime friendships.
And so comes my apology. Some of you were meant to be my friends for a season. We were apples on different branches. We grew side by side for a while, sharing sunny days and weathering rainy ones together. Then our branches grew in different directions.
Yes, we could still hear the same soundtrack: birds singing sweetly whole children grew and flew our nests, then grandchildren arrived. We were still nourished by the same roots: whether it was childhood memories, a love for God, or our involvement in a group together; the memories bonded us. But we were farther apart now, and nothing could change the fact that we were heading in different directions.
I kept listening to the soundtrack, hoping we could continue dancing in step together. I didn't understand that apples are seasonal fruit; as such, they must fall. Some will wind up in the same pie, having spent all their days together. Others will land in separate baskets, and while they may be aware of each other's fates, it is from a distance. I tried to keep us both attached to the tree, and risked us both rotting there; changing seasons demand to be recognized.
Like fruit picked in season, our time together has ended. Like apples turned into a jar of jelly, you are in the storage room of my heart. And when days grow cold and my coffee is poured and I sit with the Bread of Life, the jelly of memories made together will nourish us both. It will keep my heart soft, while the prayers I offer with your name whispered will find their way to you as blessings big and small.
Thank you, my friends for a reason. Whether you met my need or whether I met yours - I am blessed to have been with you.
Thank you, my friends for a season. I would not be who I am today without our days together. And falling hurts, but it preserves us.
Thank you, my lifetime friends. You are few in number, but rich in grace and love. We have been through every season and you still see value in me.
If friendship were a garden, I have grown the most beautiful flowers. Keep blooming, my friends.
And so comes my apology. Some of you were meant to be my friends for a season. We were apples on different branches. We grew side by side for a while, sharing sunny days and weathering rainy ones together. Then our branches grew in different directions.
Yes, we could still hear the same soundtrack: birds singing sweetly whole children grew and flew our nests, then grandchildren arrived. We were still nourished by the same roots: whether it was childhood memories, a love for God, or our involvement in a group together; the memories bonded us. But we were farther apart now, and nothing could change the fact that we were heading in different directions.
I kept listening to the soundtrack, hoping we could continue dancing in step together. I didn't understand that apples are seasonal fruit; as such, they must fall. Some will wind up in the same pie, having spent all their days together. Others will land in separate baskets, and while they may be aware of each other's fates, it is from a distance. I tried to keep us both attached to the tree, and risked us both rotting there; changing seasons demand to be recognized.
Like fruit picked in season, our time together has ended. Like apples turned into a jar of jelly, you are in the storage room of my heart. And when days grow cold and my coffee is poured and I sit with the Bread of Life, the jelly of memories made together will nourish us both. It will keep my heart soft, while the prayers I offer with your name whispered will find their way to you as blessings big and small.
Thank you, my friends for a reason. Whether you met my need or whether I met yours - I am blessed to have been with you.
Thank you, my friends for a season. I would not be who I am today without our days together. And falling hurts, but it preserves us.
Thank you, my lifetime friends. You are few in number, but rich in grace and love. We have been through every season and you still see value in me.
If friendship were a garden, I have grown the most beautiful flowers. Keep blooming, my friends.
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