This weekend, I went to see where my older son will live come Fall semester. It’s a beautiful campus in Pennsylvania, and a place where he’ll have many adventures that I’ll never know about. A good friend of mine lives a few miles away from campus, and we stayed with her and her family Sunday night. Life obligations and hundreds of miles kept our visits rare, and most of what I know of her family comes from Christmas letters and occasional emails.
The last time I saw her children in person was a dozen years ago, her husband even longer ago than that. From toddlers to teens, career changes and new houses, there’s very little in our lives that is the same as when we lived closer together. It’s been even longer since she and I lived on the same dorm floor in seminary. Yet, she is still a dear friend and her life means so much to me. I am grateful to be a recurring character in her life adventure, and honored that she is an important one in mine.
I can’t say exactly why a particular person becomes a friend for life. It’s a grace to love and be loved, and a mystery. But I know why Diane is a friend: in her life story, I can read the love of God.