Passages

Because of some events of the past few days, it has become clear to me that even the strongest of friendships can weaken and die.

Without getting specific, people I believed would never stand against me are now taking a position that, for me, is unacceptable. It should not matter to me because the issue itself is really trivial in the grand scheme of things; but alas, I am human enough and weak enough that I can sometimes be hurt. Knowing that being hurt is all part of the Great Plan to teach us and which leads us, one day, to happiness, does not seem to mitigate the pain. I believe Paul taught that we are not required to enjoy the trials, but to patiently see them through.

Autumn is encroaching on my world. The leaves are changing, albeit slowly at the moment. A harbinger of that wintry sleep that looks a lot like death. Having lived the last few years in either Oklahoma or Utah, I have missed the colors of the hardwoods in the Fall. Even though it means the trees will soon be bare and ugly, I like it far better than the constancy of evergreens.

Perhaps I am the cause of the estrangement of my friends because I don't care for the constancy of friendship. I don't think so, but I suppose it's a possibility.

Perhaps too, it's the loneliness of my new job that hones the edge of my feelings. I have frequent telephone interaction during the day with subordinates, occasionally with my superior and often with contractors and vendors. Sometimes one of my customers calls. Only rarely, however, do I actually see anyone. Maybe it's turning me into that old man who chases kids from his lawn and eats in front of the TV with his Hungryman meal resting on a fold-up TV table.

If I listen to my ego, I would think that I am simply outgrowing some of my friends, but they are growing too; perhaps outgrowing me.

In any case, I still have a wife who loves me and children too. My grandchildren certainly light my life. So maybe the cycle of friendships is here to remind us that family is the only thing that really matters.