Faded

People are funny. They never cease to amaze and confuse me.

A few years back, I made (what I thought was) a good friend. We had a lot in common. We had a few laughs. People often commented about how alike we were - like sisters. Then God put it on my heart to ask her if she was interested in becoming accountability partners - basically to discuss what is happening in our lives, past and present, and help one another hold true to our faith in the way we handle life's offerings. We would meet once a month or so, and just kind of unload on each other. Sometimes we just helped each other find words for our "stuff."  Sometimes we held each other to the fire.  Then we would pray for each other.

At that time, I was pretty uncomfortable praying out in front of other people. I think some people can do that naturally. Others of us have to work through some self-conscious baggage before we're able to really intercede without concerning ourselves with the "perfect" words or the "perfect" prayer.

I think back on that now and kind of have to laugh. I mean, what's there to be self-conscious about? I love praying for other people. I find great joy in having God nudge me and ask me to stop and pray for someone. I've never once had someone say, "No, thank you." Most people welcome the opportunity to be prayed for.

Anyway... I digress.

This lasted a year or so. I shared things about myself that I have never shared with anyone. And I mean anyone.  I shared things that maybe a small handful of others know about. The point is that I opened myself up a great deal to allow her into the deepest parts of my heart in the hopes that through it, I would grow closer to Christ. And the same for her.

I don't know what happened. I have my guesses. But... through a series of events, we sort of drifted. We're no longer friends. Not because I wouldn't want to be. I would. I still love her dearly. I was honored to know her and to share in her life's journey. I know things about her that I'm sure very few others know. I saw a very sad, broken, troubled part of her soul.  (Which, come to think of it, was how we first connected. I saw a lot of sadness behind her smiles. I wrote her an email once and just spoke a few words of honesty, to which she replied, "You're a very perceptive young lady.")  I tried talking to her about where we stood on a couple of occasions, but... to no avail. It was just lost. And I don't know for sure why.  When I left Oregon, there was hardly a goodbye.

This makes me sad on a number of levels.

I am pretty discerning about with whom I share my deepest parts. Sometimes I make mistakes. Sometimes I've chosen wisely.

It feels good to make a new friend. But it sure is disappointing when a friend (new or old) sort of fades away, especially when there is no explanation.

Honesty goes a long way with me. Some people just don't have that same ideal. Maybe they're afraid of the honesty. Maybe they're afraid of the vulnerability.  Maybe it's something else altogether.

Space is a big deal with me, too. Sometimes relationships build so quickly that you just need to take a step back and evaluate where you are. I don't like being smothered, and I certainly don't want to be the one doing the smothering.

Certainly, two friends can drift apart. But I still think they owe it to one another to be honest.

I just never understand silence. I also don't understand cursory conversations where once something much more rich existed, even in the way we greeted one another.

My friends will always know where I stand.

But, hey, that's cool.