An Ode to Friendships, Both New and Old

and I can't believe it's coming from me

Issue #34/ Welcome to Good and Beautiful Things, thanks so much for joining me in this space. I love making things, sometimes with words, sometimes with ink and paint. This weekly newsletter is a collage of both.

Dear Reader,

I have to tell you right out of the gate that I find myself a bit surprised to be writing an ode to friendship this week.

For every friendship that has lasted twenty-years or more there are equal numbers of friendships that have crashed and burned and left scars.

Some of those lost friendships are far enough behind me that the cuts and bruises are nicely healed over with thick scar tissue. But I still carry around a heart with some charred, smokey bits leftover from the relationships that didn’t make it through the pandemic.

It’s precisely because of the years of collateral damage that I find myself surprised to be writing a song of praise for friendship this week.

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Old Friends

At the exact time that a small but treasured group of friends were exiting my life in the divisive age of the pandemic, the Lord was gracious to bring back some old friends. From a text once a year or a cup of coffee every few years, several women shifted back into a regular place in my life.

This Blake quote nods to some truthful aspects of friendship. In the big picture, it suggests that friendship can be a place of belonging and safety like a nest is to a bird or a web is to a spider. But have you watched a bird build a nest piece-by-piece or a spider patiently and intricately weave a web? It requires time and perseverance.

There is no way to fast-forward the process of building relationships, at least in my experience. Only lots of time and plenty of shared life experiences can create a bond durable enough to resist the turbulent weather a nest or web has to endure. 

This week I’m thankful for the friends who know me to my bones, who have walked through the gauntlet of friendship and are still showing up and sticking with me. I’m thankful for the shorthand in our conversations. I’m thankful for the wisdom they bring to my life.

A few days ago I sat with one of those old friends at a local bagel shop. We’ve known each other for twenty-four years. (It’s almost our silver anniversary, dear friend.) She’s known me since I was just a young married girl playing house. 

When I told her that we found out last week our daughter will need another heart procedure, she didn’t need any further explanation to understand how I was feeling. Because twenty-one years ago she came to our house, her own baby in tow and kept watch over our toddler during the night while our four-day-old infant recovered from open heart surgery. She was also there for the next surgery and the one after that.

When I told my friend about our beloved pet dying unexpectedly this week and how her last moments reminded me of my Dad’s last moments, I didn’t have to explain any further. Because for all of the years that he was sick she listened, while our kids played on the playground, to stories of his dementia and the fight for decent medical care that I battled until the end. The night before his funeral she ate pizza with me and another old friend and somehow by the grace of God there was a sweet, unexpected release of laughter before the service the next day.¹

When I tell her I’m still having chronic pain, still taking medicine every day, I have no doubt she understands because I’ve known her through the years of her relentless, life-stopping migraines, the days (years) she spent in a dark room and the deep fear that even the hint of a headache brings on now.

There are countless stories like these to tell and there are also the times that our friendship wavered on precarious footing and through it all, it has not only survived but only grown stronger.

I could tell similar stories about the small handful of old friends in my life. I don’t know any other path to this kind of friendship than time, showing up, and unrelenting grace.²

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New(ish) Friends

When our family experienced a giant shift in community during the pandemic, the realization that it would take considerable time to build-up new relationships was a daunting one. I dreaded the number of surface-level conversations ahead of me.

I know I said there was no way to fast-forward the process but it turns out with some connections it’s possible to flip through the early chapters of friendship a little faster than normal. Maybe it’s because you’ve experienced similar hardships or maybe your season of life just happens to match up just right. I was lucky enough to find a few of those connections in our new community and they, too, have shown up this past week.

As I mentioned earlier, we lost a beloved pet. Lady Catherine De Bourgh, or “Lady” for short, died suddenly and unexpectedly. Most people won’t understand how a bunny can work her way into a family’s heart. But that’s because most people haven’t met a creature like Lady. (Though if it helps you to empathize easier in this moment, feel free to substitute “dog” or “cat” for bunny.)

Let me tell you a few things about Lady and then I’ll return to my thoughts on friendship.

Lady didn’t know she was a bunny. She would run up to the edge of her pen if she heard my voice, just like a dog. When I would reach down to rub her face she would immediately close her eyes in pure delight. Her response was both over the top and wonderful, she simply loved to be loved. Softer than silk, with a lion’s mane of hair around the back of her neck, she could sit contentedly for an hour in my husband’s arms while we watched tv. The entire time she would (aggressively) lick his arm as he petted her because it was her only way to show her appreciation for being loved. When she wasn’t being held and petted, her favorite pastime was crawling under her blankets and wearing them like a shroud.

We had her for a year when we expected to have her for ten.

Lady Catherine De Bourgh or “Lady” for short, just as noble as her namesake

As I said, most people don’t get it³. It’s a small, furry animal. Which is why we were surprised and blessed when two different friends sent little gifts to our house to let us know they cared. These were two new(ish) friends, “new” if you compare the years I’ve known them to the silver anniversary years of the “old” friends. However, it’s in moments like these when labels fall away and everyone shares the same umbrella of “people who show up and care”.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.

-Romans 12:15

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The Friends that Leave

This is where I thought I would dive a little further into the Blake quote. I thought I would remind you that sometimes a bird kicks another bird out of a nest or a spider traps another spider in his web and then devours him. It would be very David Attenborough/reality nature show style and I’d give you a little treatise on how to survive friendship break-ups.

But it doesn’t feel right this week. Relationships are complicated and they don’t actually fit tidily into two categories, like I’ve tried to do here. The truth is that the friends I have the privilege to know (and I mean more than the few I’ve mentioned here) have been gradually healing the other parts of my heart. Just like Lady in the loving arms of my husband, it’s possible for friendship to become a safe place to belong, to love and be loved.

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From the Sketchbook Archives

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Continue the Journey

In the Archives

Something in the Water

On Substack

I haven’t made my way very far into the fall collection by

Coffee + Crumbs

, but the poem Calling an Old Friend by

Jenna Brack

is a perfect companion to this newsletter. I know you’ll find some other treasures there as well.

Our fall collection is live!

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Blessings from the Guest Nest,

-Aimee

1. Several other friends attended his funeral and most of them did not know my Dad personally.

2. I happened to see this particular old friend this week but there are several of my close friends who read this and I hope you know who you are. Each of you responded with compassion and understanding this week and I’m thankful for you.

3. The funny part is that I could write a separate newsletter on why it’s also surprising that I would fall in love with any animal, much less a bunny.