So there we were in Chattanooga, high school friends getting together to rehash old times and catch up on the year’s news. We missed one dear friend that usually comes, but the four of us who were there couldn’t quit listening and laughing. We’ve all made new friends, but we’re also keeping the old–the “gold”, from our childhood song.
A common comment was “Well, getting back to what I was saying about…” and no one seemed to mind the interruptions or the return to the original story.
We are all busy people. We are involved in our churches, our neighborhoods, our friends’ and our children’s lives. I was struck by the respect with which each of us mentioned our husbands–all of us married over 46 years. We range from childless to having three great-grandchildren.
Our hostess did tell about her husband’s recent heart problems, with hopes of being solved with a pacemaker-defibrillator installation, but it wasn’t the focus of the visit. We listened, no doubt praying for him silently. Quiet indications that she’d been through a lot and her friends knew it were shown with the fabulous blueberry coffee cake from one friend and the delicious spaghetti and meatballs from another.
One of us has a newly-married granddaughter with ITP, having had surgery that didn’t seem to fix the problem as hoped. She received phone messages about the situation. We keep her in prayer as well.
Our main focus was plans for our upcoming high school reunion. Fifty years! How could it be? Over the years, we’ve lost touch with one or another and then reconnected, but now email solidly connects us. We talked about our classmates and shared what we knew about each. We marveled at the travels of one and the accomplishments of another.
We talked about the shyest of our class who doesn’t plan to come. Is it shyness or lack of funds? Her twin is coming. Can we insist, or would it be too painful for her? We don’t want anyone to stay away for financial reasons; that can be handled.
We visited Chickamauga, Georgia, near the famous Civil War battlefield. We ate lunch at Chocolate Therapy–not to be missed if you’re in the Chattanooga area. Their “chocolate cobbler” is true therapy–almost equal to the therapy of being together.
Most of all, we looked at each other and grinned. It was just like old times, but now we have retirement income and grandchildren and discretionary time. We share a strong faith and spiritual support for each other. That kind of friendship can’t be beat.
