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You have taken from me my closest friends and have made me repulsive to them. I am confined and cannot escape; my eyes are dim with grief. I call to you, O LORD, every day; I spread out my hands to you. - Psalm 88:8-9
Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. May the name of the LORD be praised. - Job 1:21
During my summer in Paraguay, one of the things besides prolonged periods in the word and prayer that kept me encouraged and motivated to persevere, was the ability to pour my heart out in letters to a few very dear friends back home. These letters would stay tucked in my suitcase until the end of the summer, at which point I could hand them to their recipients in person. However anticipation of that day kept me writing them. I wrote in detail about my struggles, joys, and the things I was learning about both God and myself. I put a little of myself into each of these letters, for in reality, they were a big part of my emotional sustenance during those 9 weeks away from home.
One such friend, who I disclosed a bigger portion of my heart to in letters, was *Evy. Evy had become my very best friend during my previous year at college. She, more than anyone in my life, had taught me the importance of willing vulnerability in friendship. As a result I had shared more of my heart with her than with anyone else ever. So during my time in Paraguay, not only did I unleash my deepest thoughts to her in letters, but I thought about her often, wondering what God was doing in her life at the moment, and praying for her faithfully. As often as I had opportunity I would send e-mails to her either with excerpts from the lengthy hand-written letters I was composing to her, or just conveying words of encouragement as well as inquiring about how she was and how I could more specifically pray for her.
Now I knew that Evy was not the best at correspondence, so it did not surprise me when I did not hear back from her right away. I did not mind. As encouraging as a letter or e-mail in response would have been, I was content to trust that she had received mine, and would respond in time. I continued to write to her just as devotedly as ever.
I did not hear a single thing from Evy, however, until when, during my final week in Paraguay, I received a short e-mail that she had written to both another friend and myself, apologizing for not having written earlier, but explaining what a busy summer it had been for her. She assured us that she was doing well and glad to hear how great our summers had been thus far. And that was it - no attempt at a response to anything I had told her, or even a hint that she would give one. I did not let it get me down, though. I was determined to love her unconditionally and continue to be the best friend I could be despite her lack of reciprocation in communicating with me.
I returned to the states, and shortly thereafter called Evy on her cell phone. I got her voicemail, so I left a message, saying that I was back in the states and anxious to catch up with her and hear about her summer. Over the course of the next week or two I tried calling again once or twice, and finally one day I got a hold of her. We talked briefly, and she told me about some things she’d spent her summer doing. She also asked how my summer had been. I don’t know how I answered that question, for I could tell she was looking for a one or maybe two-minute response. In the back of my mind I wondered why she didn’t already have some sense of how my summer was (because of all the e-mails I had sent) or at least pretend to have a clue. But she didn’t, and so I told her that it was both good and very hard and way too big of an experience to sum up in less than 10 hours. She chuckled at that and then said that she would look forward to hearing more about it, and I assured her I couldn’t wait to tell her. Then the conversation ended.
I was somewhat perplexed at the shallowness of the conversation. Now I was beginning to wonder how our friendship would look in the coming semester. I was still optimistic, though – and very determined to remain a true and unconditional friend, no matter what happened.
Within a couple weeks after that conversation it was time for me to move back to college. I arrived alone in my car, and as I was making trips from my car to my dorm room on the 3rd floor, carrying all of my belongings for the coming school year, I ran into Evy. She smiled kindly and said it was good to see me, and that she was happy I was there but she had to run. So I said hi and bye and watched her continue down the hall only to run into another friend of hers who she promptly embraced eagerly expressing great excitement at seeing her again. With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach I told myself not to compare, not to question why I had not received an equally warm welcome. This girl had likely been here for Evy all summer while I was out of the country. Changes in friendship was inevitable, and that was a price I needed to be willing to pay for the life changing experience I had had in Paraguay.
Over the next semester I often sought Evy out, expressing a deep interest in her, how her summer had been, and how she was currently. I did a lot of listening, and only then volunteered information about my time in Paraguay, longing for an understanding look, a word of encouragement or interest, but I received this only on a very shallow scale. I sought repeatedly to be a friend to her by going to her room and hanging out, taking her out to dinner, offering back massages, and anything else I could think of to show her how much I wanted to be her friend like before.
However not once did she seek me out. Never did she come by my room except when her job as residence assistant on the hall required that she check the tidiness of each room. During one of these mandatory visits she mentioned to me that she was going to make a point of getting together with me in the coming week. I was thrilled at the thought of this, however careful not to get my hopes up, for indeed my reserve turned out to be well merited. The semester finished out and I never saw evidence of an attempt to follow through with the proposed date.
This was,
in effect, the last straw. I was
hurt. Towards the end of the semester I
had cried often, wondering what I had done to deserve such a cold shoulder. Still
determined to love unconditionally, I could not bring myself to be mad at
her. I still wanted the best for her,
however after a semester of hurt and confusion, I decided that for my own
sanity and well-being, I needed to stop trying.
I would always be there for her should she seek me out, but to continue
seeking her out would only cause me to hurt more.
Evy had been an amazing friend, and God had used her mightily in my life, but now He was using her to teach me how to let go. He was also giving me a very small understanding of the love He extends to mankind. How, I wondered, could He ever express such a boundless and unconditional love to creatures so unfailingly unreceptive and even rebellious? Love as great as this was certainly worth any measure that would make it more clearly seen. God was yet again exercising His infinite knowledge of who I am to show me more of whom He is and thereby causing me to fall deeper in love with Him.
*Evy's name has been changed for confidentiality
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