On Friday in the midst of a conversation, someone told me I wasn’t very sentimental.

At first, I laughed it off. Then when I left, I got in my car and started to cry.

For the next hour, I drove to old places I used to wander when I lived at home, like my favorite park and coffee shop. I drove past the high school I went to on my way back to my house.

And you best believe I remembered it all.

When I walked into my bedroom, I pulled out a box that I have under my bed. It is filled with notes and cards, drawings, tickets from events, and photos — all the random things people thought I didn’t notice (like the “Hi, I love you”‘s on pages in my school notebooks when I wasn’t looking, and the handwritten letters I read a hundred times whenever I received them).

After I looked through each piece, I sorted them and read them. All these beautiful notes and letters and memories and all I could see were these few:

“I can’t describe how awesome you are and how happy I am that I know you. Stay awesome, beautiful, special and amazing – B”

“Seriously through, I’d be an absolute mess without you. Thanks mom 🙂 – K”

“You are my best friend for life. I love you.”

There were more, too. All from friends who held such significant role in my life yet are no longer in it, and so I couldn’t look anymore.

There were friends who chose drugs over me, relationships over me, and felt judged by my faith; and too, there were friends whom I chose my own pride over them.

This isn’t a post with an encouraging conclusion, I am struggling to find one to give and in turn one to find comfort in.

All I know is this:

People change.

Relationships change.

God is unchanging.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s