Last week I had lunch with five marvelous, retired chicks (sorry, blast from the past) at a lovely local restaurant. It was the best of times with the best of friends, and our little two-hour luncheon overflowed with delightful conversations and loud, unapologetic laughter (I think we even snorted a time or two!). We were almost unaware of the other diners and had to remind ourselves that we weren’t the only ones there to enjoy lunch, quieting down now and again to catch our breath, peeking around to see if others were staring at our obvious good time!
We reminisced about our teaching days together – the good and the bad, our lovely students, and of course, shared funny antics about our better halves (of which I cannot divulge!). We bragged endlessly about our grandkids – connecting on a level that only proud braggadocios grandparents can, talked about how good the Lord is and what He’s been up to in our lives and churches, and validated each other in a way that only friends who share history can do. We shared our aches and pains and empathized with each other. Then we kicked around how wonderful retirement is, feeling ‘sorry’ for those who are still on their journey.
When we departed and I got into my SUV, I noticed a piece of delightful bright green cilantro hanging between two of my front teeth. Did I care? Nope, not one bit, I dug it out without feeling one shred of embarrassment. I had been among friends, and they could have cared less if I was sporting a small green leaf in my pearly whites. They probably didn’t even notice it was there, and if they did notice, they deemed it unimportant at the moment, and laughed with me, not at me. That’s true friendship.
Besides, upon departing we were refreshed, uplifted and eagerly anticipating and planning our next soiree which will most likely follow the same familiar path: a good glass of iced tea, lots of laughter, husband stories, and conversations worth a million bucks – hopefully without the cilantro. Because there’s no friendship like an old friendship.
Old friendships, in my book, are priceless. They have history. They have deep roots. They have a built-in tolerance that can kindly criticize, lovingly restore, and furiously defend. They validate you in a way that takes the threads of the past and weaves them into the present; and whatever the emerging picture is – it’s good enough. You can kick off your shoes, so to speak, pull up a chair and be yourselfuncensored and genuine, and old friends still love you when the conversations are finished, and the room is empty.
Friendships that endure time are the real enchilada. They’re like the tap root on a pine tree: they grow deep and don’t bend even when times get tough. I, not unlike you, can recall some friendships that failed to retain longevity and loyalty. Some simply passed away almost unnoticed and others ceased when the wind blew too strongly, when roots grew too shallow. Then there are those uncomplicated friendships that continue and increase in value as time and life ebb on – those are the gifts that can be opened at the most unexpected times.
I heard the other day that laughter actually strengthens the muscles of the heart, stretching them as the body accommodates the pressure and the pull required to produce a good laugh. That’s what old gold true friends do; they make you laugh pulling on your heartstrings without you even knowing it creating a strength that helps carry you through life’s journey.
