Out of the Inner Circle

I’m a big fan of Facebook. It delights me to see my elementary school classmates 20 years later, grown-up raising elementary school kids of their own. I love seeing photos of dear, old friends that live in another part of the country. Lately, though, I’m realizing there’s a hollowness to these connections.

Tonight I looked at my friend Amy’s page. There’s a picture of her, holding her fifth child and first daughter, and as I thought about what to write on her wall, I was overwhelmed. When I see her picture, I remember having so much fun with her and learning so much from her. Do I write about a favorite memory? But I’m so thrilled to see the wife and mother she’s become. Do I commend her on being the long-suffering mother of 5? How do I fill a gap of 15 years on a wall post?

In the end, I settled for an awkward, “Hey, what’s up?” kind of comment that I would also roll out on an elementary school acquaintance I haven’t seen since 1987.

Social networking is supposed to make our worlds smaller, but I feel like it’s making the gulfs in my life wider. It’s easier to remember people as they were than it is to accept growing apart from them. It’s easier to keep people in my fond memories when I don’t see their status updates or their latest ski trip photos.

But the reality is still there. People move apart, relationships change. The people who knew me best 10 years ago have been replaced, for the most part, with people who may not know me well 10 years from now. And just as I have replaced old friends with new, I have been replaced in people’s inner circles. Ouch.

This is something I’ve thought about a lot recently. I hate seeing my old friends’ profiles and realizing I’ve been replaced. But before I can despair for too long, I look at my own profile and think, if I were to go back in time or geography and stay close to those old friends, I would not have my Thursday night homegirls, nor would I have my mentors.

Looking over my life, so far, I can see God using specific people to teach me specific lessons. 15 years ago, Amy was teaching me about freedom by making me pee in the woods. Now Debbie is teaching me about freedom by empowering me to say no even if it means disappointing people. 15 years ago I needed someone to challenge my body-consciousness. Now I need someone to challenge my need to please people. The lessons I get to keep; the people don’t come with the same guarantee. I will always know Amy, I will always be welcome to post on her wall or sleep on her couch, but I will never know her quite like I did in 1994.

There is one truth that keeps this from being utterly hopeless for me. For friends like Amy, or Debbie, or my Thursday night crowd, there is a promise of eternity together. Even if our paths on Earth diverge and even if Facebook can’t hold us together, I can look forward to Heaven when we’ll have nothing but time to praise the One who created our friendship together. Hopefully, we’ll have time to catch up, too.