Aristotle wrote that a friend is "a single soul inhabiting two bodies." Francis Bacon noted that, "without friends the world is but a wilderness," and Robert Brault added that "I value the friend who for me finds time on his calendar, but I cherish the friend who for me does not consult his calendar."
One of my favorite passages in the Bible is in the book of Job. Job had endured grave loss, as the Lord allowed Satan to take from Job everything but his life. Three of Job's friends heard of his loss and came to comfort him, but his pain was so great they hardly recognized him. Job 2:13 states that "they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great was his suffering."
These descriptors of friendship acknowledge its core: friendship makes life bearable, sufferable, better, breathable. That we feel kinship as if we share a soul, that friends make civilized that which otherwise is wild, that a friend will toss aside the schedule to be there--this is the stuff of one of God's greatest gifts to us. When Job's three friends knew not what to say but stayed, it was their presence that mattered. They were there.
My friends are the Biblical reflection of Job's: (okay, they may cuss and carry on a tad more than the three fellas in the Old Testament, but...) even when they know not what to say or do, they are here. And often they know just what to say and do. Yesterday was a rare, wonderful moment when three of my nearest and dearest converged in one spot. For hours we laughed, cried, vented, talked. It was precious. There is no punchline here. It was precious. It is what it is.
Friendship is a foxhole: a protection from the scariest sh*t life hurls at us. This is a little tribute to my protectors, my mates. Thank you, God: my foxhole is crowded.
No comments:
Post a Comment