A Friend Loves At All Times
“A friend loves at all times.”
Proverbs 17:17 NKJV
My heart thumped erratically and my palms felt clammy as I drove along unfamiliar roads. I took deep breaths. “Settle down,” I told myself. “Everything is going to be just fine.” Google Maps directed me to take a right. It was my last turn before arriving at my destination. I pulled into the parking lot of the group home, and then I saw him. My friend. David*. For those who read The Maine Thing, you met David in chapter four of my book. He was one of my neighborhood friends - my musical friend who lived life in the fast lane.
David stood waiting on the far end of the parking lot, smoking a cigar and rocking back and forth to stay warm. At that moment, all apprehension diminished. I parked, jumped out of the car and ran to embrace my friend. David hugged me back.
“You made it,” he smiled.
My kids exited the car, and I made quick introductions in the parking lot. The night air was frigid, so we proceeded indoors where we visited for the next two hours.
This interaction occurred the first week of December, 2024. I had returned to Maine for an entire week to focus on promoting my book and to run the Millinocket Marathon. Throughout the week, I scheduled many different times to meet up with old friends. David was one of my first stops.
Why the apprehension about visiting a friend, you might wonder. Well, David and I hadn’t seen each other in twenty years. Aside from a sporadic text here and there, our paths diverged in two very different directions. Communication was minimal. Due to his mental health condition, David didn’t travel much, so he hadn’t ventured west to visit me. Additionally, the times I vacationed in Maine, I was unable to see him due to other complications. So I just didn’t quite know what to expect when I pulled up to his home that evening.
As we proceeded indoors, I took in the surroundings. The living room area was welcoming and warm. Couches sat facing one another, and the TV provided soft background chatter. Light from floor lamps gave the room a warm glow. An elderly gentleman sat on one of the couches and nodded at us in acknowledgment as we walked by. I later learned his name was Frank*. We continued to the dining room where a long table extended from one side of the room to the other. A full service kitchen sat off to the left, and a caregiver named Lisa* welcomed us.
“Can I get the kids some popcorn or lemonade?” she asked. My kids looked at me to gain my permission. I nodded and smiled. “That would be great. Thank you,” I said.
As corn kernels popped vigorously in the microwave, the kids and I settled ourselves in chairs around the table. I could see the dark winter night and snow through the dining room’s sliding glass doors. Yet inside the kitchen that night, my heart felt radiant and warm.
“Have you eaten supper yet?” David wanted to know. I shook my head.
“No,” I replied.
David immediately strode to the refrigerator and gathered snacks. I felt humbled and honored by the gesture. After he passed out the food, we finally settled down for our visit and started catching up. Where do you even begin when you haven’t seen someone for twenty years? Surprisingly, we picked right up where we left off, and conversation flowed easily. As we talked, we reminisced about our memories. We talked about some of the memories I wrote about in my book - so many good memories! We also discussed other memories - painful memories that still evoked tears. We laughed. We cried. And we laughed some more. The laughter - and tears - felt like healing ointment to my soul. And I began to discover something beautiful that evening.
True friendship transcends time.
Yes, many years had passed since our last meeting. Yes, my friend looked different than he did twenty years ago. Life and its consequences aged him tremendously. Yes, due to ongoing challenges with his mental health, David now lived in a group home. He was independent in some ways but very dependent in others. Despite all these external changes, that evening with David confirmed my belief that friendship is vital for every human being.
You see, as we sat there, David bared his soul with great vulnerability.
“You remember the time I rode your horse, Kedar?” He started. I nodded. David turned to my kids and expanded on the memory. “Your mother took me to ride her horse, and I fell off!” We both laughed as we relived the memory. David continued, “Your mother made me get back on the horse.” He laughed again, then paused and looked directly at me.
“I’ve fallen off the horse, Liz,” David drew in a deep breath and maintained eye contact as he continued to express feelings of inadequacy.
“I’ve fallen off the horse, and I don’t know how to get back on,” David shrugged his shoulders helplessly and shook his head. “I’ve got nothin’,” he continued. “I mean, look at me! I am so out of shape. I’m addicted to nicotine. They do everything for me here!” At this point David broke eye contact and stared at the table. When he finally looked at me again, he spoke his next words with force.
“This is a retirement home for the mentally ill!” David’s eyes grew large in disbelief. “I qualify!” He laughed and shook his head as if still surprised at his demise. David broke eye contact again and looked down at the table once more. “I qualify.” He said this more softly as if accepting his condition.
I wish I could say I offered some great advice that evening, but I didn’t. I just sat there with him and listened. We were silent at times. Animated at others. And I realized, just as I had twenty years earlier, David just needed a friend. Someone who would accept him for who he is. No matter what his condition. He didn’t need advice - in fact he didn’t ask for it, so why would I offer it? He just desired a friend. And I was able to see beyond David’s exterior. Beyond his physical condition and into his heart. What I saw humbled me. For David’s heart is more beautiful than ever.
David thanked his caregivers as they provided for his needs. He was up and down from the table making sure my kids and me had food. He brought out his guitar and sang for us, even though playing music is challenging for him in his current condition. And he spoke words of encouragement to each person who entered the kitchen.
“Maybe you don’t have much right now,” I admitted gently as the kids and I got ready to leave several hours later. “Yet you DO have a beautiful heart.”
David looked surprised and said, “Wow. No one’s ever said that to me before.”
So I said it again. And I was once again reminded of the beauty of friendship. Aren’t you often the most incapable person of seeing how capable you truly are? Don’t you sometimes need someone else to point out your uniqueness? To reiterate just how special you are? To value you when you’re having a hard time valuing yourself? Friends who believe in you - and with you - for a better tomorrow? Don’t you need friends who will accept you, even if you’ve fallen off the horse and don’t know how to get back on?
Sure, David has some challenges…maybe more than most. Yet on the inside, he is a kind, encouraging man who’s like you and me in many ways. He craves acceptance. At times questions his worth. Desires love. Yearns to belong. And wants friendship in the midst of his mess.
So moving into this Christmas season and beyond, I want to encourage you to see - really see - the people around you. Call out their uniqueness. Offer a listening ear. Love deeply. And extend grace and friendship to others in the midst of their mess. For isn’t that what Christmas is all about? Christ is called “Emmanuel” - God with us. He came and made his home with us. He saw the people around Him. He offered a listening ear. He loved deeply. And He extended friendship, grace and hope to everyone - even if they’d “fallen off the horse.” If you’re a follower of Christ, His Spirit lives in you! Today, you can be God’s voice of friendship and hope! Let’s celebrate Emmanuel and keep shining Christ’s light to everyone around us. Merry Christmas!
*I gained permission to share this story and changed names for privacy.