Skeletons

I didn’t often think about the past when I was younger. Now I think about it a lot. (Maybe that’s because there’s more of it than there used to be; after all, I’ll be forty this year.)

What I find myself thinking about most are the skeletons in my closet.

Now I’m not talking about the “skeletons” people are normally referring to when they use that term. You know, the “dirty deeds” we all hope no one will ever find out about. (Hey, I’m forgiven, covered by the grace of Jesus. I don’t have to worry about those things anymore.)

No, the skeletons I’m talking about are the friendships I’ve let die over the years.

Joan Parker – best friend from high school. Her home became a second home to me, and I adored her family. Teachers confused us with one another; we were inseparable.

Dawn Haskew – high school and college friend, and gifted artist. My “do-it-yourself” wedding wouldn’t have been half as beautiful without all her hard work.

Elizabeth Dunn – college pal. She was the sorority sister with whom I had the strongest kinship (the only real kinship, to be honest). Her faith inspired me.

Christine Likens – summer beach project bosom buddy. The day she met me and learned that my boyfriend of four years (yes, Steven) had broken up with me, she told me she couldn’t wait to see what great things God was going to do in my life. Our friendship grew deep fast.

Tracy Hambrick – the neighbor who became so much more than just a neighbor. She and her husband found it difficult to break the news to us that they were moving out of state; when they finally told us, I sobbed.

Robin Cooper – God’s grace to me at BellSouth. In a season of my life where work limited my ability to spend time with women elsewhere, God gave me daily Christian fellowship with this dearest friend.

These relationships span a period of more than 15 years. And you know what’s really sad? In some way, I’ve grossly failed every one of these women as a friend. One went through an emotionally abusive marriage, and I wasn’t there for her. Another’s dad died, and I never sought to comfort her. One sends me cards faithfully (and has for the last 15 years) even though she never gets a response back from me. In some cases, I’ve neglected the friendships and let them fall by the wayside simply because life’s journey has taken us in different directions. And in at least one case, I deeply wounded a hurting friend with my self-righteousness.

There are other friends from my past that I wonder about. But these women are different. These are the ones who were closest to my heart. And I ache for them.

God has blessed me with precious friendships now – true kindred spirits. You might argue, then, that it’s just the past I ache for -- the years that have gone by, the youth that has faded.

I don’t think so.

I think God is teaching me about relationship – the value of it, the beauty of it, the deepness of it. I ache for these women because my heart was connected to theirs -- still is connected to theirs.

Thankfully, these women (I’m certain about all but one) are believers. I’m humbled to know that someday there will be no failures to acknowledge, no wounds of which to repent; I will have glorious, perfect fellowship with these sisters. In the meantime, I’d be happy for a little more imperfect fellowship with them in this life. With a little effort on my part, by God’s grace it will happen.