A Sacred Friendship

We hadn’t seen George and Thyrza in years. Let’s see, they came to visit us while we were in seminary; then George presented me at both of my ordinations; and then they came for another visit to Pennsylvania during my initial years as a parish priest in the late 90s. So I suppose it’s been about five years since we’ve seen them last. When they arrived in Norfolk this past weekend, they were a sight for sore eyes. They retired to Bozeman, Montana some time back, since two of their children and a growing tribe of grandchildren were out there. And although we correspond by e-mail every now and again and exchange a rare phone call around the holidays, it’s been a longer gap in our time together than I had realized. 

We met them in the mid to late 1980s when we started back to church. George was the Rector of the Episcopal Church in Larchmont, New York that we’d picked to start attending. We were quickly drawn into the life of the parish getting involved in a variety of activities – but none perhaps more formative than our weekly Bible study group that moved from one house to another every Tuesday night, in which both George and his wife, Thyrza were active members. 

We knew they were something special from the beginning; Thyrza: all bouncy and effervescent and just eager to learn about people – and always eager to pray – always, always, always. George: the always reserved Virginia gentleman, able to hear all sides of an issue, and always eager to laugh – always, always, always. I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed the ability to pray freely, openly, and without reservation, until we were reunited this weekend. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that laugh until I heard it again this weekend. So much has changed – for them and for us. And yet there is something unique and precious in our history that is the same, and I cherish it more than I knew – or at least more than I remembered, until this weekend.  

As we stood on our back porch, and as I listened to the familiar sound of their voices, I saw our little back yard as if it were new again. The changes that have occurred in this little space – some planned, some unplanned are not unlike the many changes we have seen in our lives and in our friendship. There’s surprise of seeing how squirrels are once again able to scurry up our still new Crepe Myrtle onto the wires above at 100 miles an hour, as we all celebrate birthdays we never thought possible. There’s warmth in seeing how a pair of doves have adopted our phlox as a comfortable bed, as we rediscover the comfort of a familiar friendship. There’s wonder in why some things bloom when they do, as I stand with George and Thyrza, who have – once again - made the effort to be with us. 

And there is deep peace as we hold hands once more to pray together – quietly, fervently, hopefully, without embarrassment, without hurry, knowing that we are all moving towards something beyond us – more significant than anything pressing upon us, and more valuable than any treasure. And this friendship is but a small taste.