I spent the morning at an old friend’s grave
Flowers and Amazing Grace, he was a good man
He spent his whole life spinning his wheels
Never knowing how the real thing feels
He never took a chance or took the time to dance
And I stood there thinking as I said goodbye
Today’s the first day of the rest of my life
When the Sand Runs Out, Rascal Flatts
It’s a dark day.
I’m sitting on a green park bench between two of my very best friends.
On my left is my oldest friend, begging me not to forget her. Her pleas are urgent; her promises, though empty, are tempting. I see the hurt in her brown eyes as her long black hair falls over her shoulders. The familiarity of our long friendship brings comfort, which makes it almost too difficult to walk away. I’ve strayed with her recently, acting out like a selfish teenager rebelling against her father.
“Don’t leave me,” she says. “Where will you be without me?”
My heart hurts. I grow uncomfortable, squirming in my seat.
On my right is my new friend. I turn to her slowly, agonized by the decision placed before me.
She’s compassionate, affording respect and grace. Her life is surreal to me, one I never dreamed I was worthy to experience. Her call is quiet, but powerful. She nods her head at my old friend, understanding the pain that will come from the parting. She runs her hands through her short dark brown hair, and pats my knee.
Her voice soaked in a mix of authority, passion, and determination, she whispers, “You can do this. It is not a loss, even though your heart feels differently. Her time in your life has ended. It is with a new love that you both are set free.”
My face slowly pivots to meet the eyes of my old friend. With tears in hers, she sits quietly, silently acknowledging our end. Head bowed, she nods, and stands from the park bench.
I watch her as she walks away from me. There’s a sudden lurch in my stomach, a desire to jump up and take her in my arms. The memories of our past together haunt me, sweetly playing on the hurt of my heart, but the further she walks the more I am able to release her.
The gaze of my short-haired friend calls to me. She, too, stands, leaning a hand on my shoulder, encouraging me to stand as well. She begins her walk, appropriately in the opposite direction of my lost friend.
With a sense of both sadness and accomplishment, I begin to follow in her steps.
As I turn to take one last look at my old friend, she is but a small blur now, the distance enveloping her figure.
I whisper a sad farewell, praying that I will be better for both of us, and continue walking in the direction God has always meant for his daughter.
Even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry ad will save (Isaiah 46:4).
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11).
Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is (Ephesians 5:17).
Even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry ad will save (Isaiah 46:4).
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11).
Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is (Ephesians 5:17).
