The Bond of Friendship

Today was a day I had dreamed of for 9 long years.  I had doubts at times that it would ever happen, but I held on to a sliver of hope.  And Hope prevailed.

To many, a church is simply a building.  To some, even the community inside the building means mere nothing—there are churches everywhere, always a new chance to make friends at the new place, right?  But sometimes in your life, there is a church that holds such a deep impact on your life…and a friendship that beats all others.  That is the friendship between Janice and I….a friendship that started at St. Patrick’s Church.

To make a long story short, Janice is my Confirmation sponsor and someone whom I shared very personal moments with growing up.  However, in 2007, St. Patrick’s closed its doors forever, dashing friendships, and breaking hearts in it’s closure.  Although we never truly broke the bond internally, the closure took it’s toll on Janice, along with other difficult circumstances within her family life, and we pulled apart, at least in the physical sense, for 9 long years.

In January of 2015, when I lost my precious Delanie, my mind flooded back to the special moment Janice and I shared, where she opened up and shared with me the pain of her own miscarriage.  I knew I wanted to share my moment with her.  But never thought of attempting to—it was just a thought.  A thought that festered me for an entire year.  Finally, in July of 2016, I found a spec of courage to write her a letter…..I didn’t expect much, but was presently surprised to get a reply.  The letters came steadily, and when I joined the choir at Blessed Sacrament, and saw her at “my” mass for the first time—it hit home.  I was home again, and under the same roof as the woman who had a major role in how strong my faith life is today.  Sunday she finally told me to call her and set a date for lunch.  That date was today.  Today, my dream came true.

We enjoyed a lovely lunch, laughing and reminiscing on old times, sharing my story of how I came to Blessed Sacrament, and why I made that move.  I gave her a copy of my cemetery history book I wrote, as a present, which totally surprised and shocked her.  Then, we returned to the car, and it was as if time stood still all these years—-immediately we both opened up.  I shared my broken engagement, my “fall from grace” and miscarriage.  We shared tears together.  Not simple tears—–real tears.  She comforted me, and I comforted her when she spoke of her father and her mother.  And then, sadly, it had to end.  We both had other duties to attend to.  But we left each other’s presence knowing that we were finally back together—that hole has been stitched.  We said I love you to each other, and shared one last tear-filled hug, before we both returned to reality, vowing to do it again soon.

Although she goes to a different mass than I do, she occasionally attends “my” mass (the 1030 mass that the choir sings at)…and whenever I see her there, I am reminded that if you have a little hope.  A little faith.  Anything is possible.  Never would I have imagined that Janice and I would once again belong to the same parish.  I never would have guessed that I’d see her on a Sunday, and she’d be hearing me sing in the church choir, just as she did so many years ago.

I am home.  Blessed Sacrament is my home.  And the common thread of a church has resown a friendship, and began a healing in both of us, to mend the broken hearts we both have, in many areas.

What dream, what wish, what desire do you harbor deep within?  Whatever that is—never give up hope.  One day, that wish, that dream, that desire may happen.  It did for me—-it will for you.  Will you believe?