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COLUMNS
Precious gift of friendship in Christ is heavenly consolation
The Catholic Sun | July 15, 2010
Where were you in the summer of 1990, when record-shattering temperatures in the Valley soared to a blistering 122 degrees?
I remember that year, not just because of the extreme heat, but because I was on the brink of discovering a wonderful, new friendship.
That summer, my husband and I were overjoyed to be expecting our second child. Problems with the pregnancy, however, landed me in the emergency room. The physician on call figured I was probably having a miscarriage; I was heartbroken.
The doctor ordered an ultrasound exam to confirm his suspicions. As the technician moved her instrument across my belly, I saw her face light up with a beautiful smile. “What is it?” I asked. “May I see?”
She slowly turned the screen toward me. And then I saw him: a tiny, 10-week old baby, doing somersaults in my womb as if to say, “Look, Mom! I’m doing just fine!”
Still, there were complications that required strict bed rest. The doctor told me to go home, lie on my left side and “try not to move too much.” And really, that would have been fine, except that I had a 2-year-old son at the time who wasn’t showing any signs of wanting to be on bed rest with me. The days stretched into weeks — ultimately 12 long weeks, to be exact.
My circle of friends and acquaintances from church came to the rescue. They organized dinners, took care of my toddler, brought Communion and prayed for us. A key was left under the mat by the back door so people could drop off meals and visit.
Unexpected gift
One day, a young mother I knew from church stopped by with dinner for our family. She appeared in the doorway of my bedroom with a mop, bucket, sponges and spray bottles.
“I’m going to clean your house,” Rosie announced brightly, brushing off my futile protests and heading toward the bathroom. And just like that, she was down on her knees, scrubbing away. I was stunned, to say the least. Learning to accept so much help was a humbling affair.
It was weeks later when I discovered this woman’s unsolicited deed of mercy took place on — of all days — her birthday. A day that, in my mind anyway, she should have been off somewhere enjoying herself, not crouched on the floor, cleaning up after my family.
And that is the image I want to hold up to the light of eternity: selfless love, joyfully given, a sharing in the crosses of life. Those are the elements of friendships that endure. St. John said it eloquently, way back in the first century A.D.: “Children, let us love not in word or speech, but in deed and truth.” (1 John 3:18)
So when I think of that summer 20 years ago, what comes to mind is the incredible gift of friendship. The love of loyal friends, those who share our every triumph and heartache, all the sacraments and sorrows — that is what makes life so sweet.
In this era of social networking in which people list hundreds of friends on their websites, I can’t help but wonder how many such “friends” would actually be there in a pinch. Would they make dinner for you? Change your baby’s diaper? Clean your bathroom floor?
Neither fame nor riches, nor worldly success of any kind, can match the joy true friendship brings the human heart. Careers change, children grow up, dreams die, but the love of a friend in Christ is heavenly consolation.
Whatever you accomplish in life, if you’ve shared a friendship like this, you are blessed beyond measure.
Oh, and that little intrauterine gymnast of mine? He’s a college student now with true friends of his own.
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