Best Friend

Throughout high school and college, I refused to use the words, "best friend." I refused to choose one person, among so many, to hold this place. It felt confining, limiting, and suffocating - to have to label one person this way when my life was surrounded by so many amazing, selfless, loving people. Even at my wedding, there was no single "maid of honor". In fact, the program listed every single woman as a Maid of Honor. My sisters, my roommates... I lived in a world filled with best friends.

The beauty of it came from its flexibility - like ocean waves at the beach - different people rolled in and out at different times. A once distant friend would became a close ally; but as time changes, they might fade or roll back for awhile.

Refusing to use a label gave us all a sort of freedom. Freedom to withdraw and return. Freedom to change. Freedom to grow in different ways - sometimes to grow apart and sometimes to grow incredibly close.

And then we moved to Los Angeles… and I found myself in a relational desolate place. I went in – idealistic and hopeful. I came out – bruised and skeptical.

This post isn’t going to be a sad recap of the hardships I faced… or an opportunity to feel sorry for myself – as tempted as I might be. Instead it’s about finding hope and friends in the places I least expected, or the places I previously didn’t consider. Friendships in Los Angeles took tremendous determination and initiation. Sometimes these efforts produced beautiful friendships but sometimes they ended in heartbreak and emptiness.

There is one friendship, however, that stands above them all. There were times I was mean and fiercely independent. There were times I was at peace and able to laugh. Through them all he never gave up on me. Though I may have shifted like the tide of the sea, his friendship and loyalty never faltered. He is consistent and calm – though we never could have imagined the hardships we faced.

He won’t tell me what to do – though sometimes I try to get him to tell me all the answers. He jokes when I am trying to be serious. He waits outside the bedroom door when I won’t let him in. He makes time to do house chores even when we are both busy.
But most importantly, he wouldn’t let me push him away, try as I might.

And so a new type of freedom emerges behind the label of “best friend”. A freedom I had not known before. A friend that loves at all times. A friend that loves in the midst of the uncertainty and the unknown. A friend that is willing to forgive again and again when I let him down.

If I hadn’t faced the relational desolate Los Angeles – I might not have been able to cherish his friendship as deep. And although I sometimes wonder if he’s the ONLY friend I have… He is the one that matters most. He is my home. He is my best friend.