If I Could Save Friendships in a Bottle

I remember our giggles in the tub. We filled the lid from the shampoo bottle with shampoo and pretended it was an egg. We took turns cracking it over each other’s heads and dumping the slimy liquid on top of our hair. It oozed down the sides of our heads like egg whites separating from a yoke. We thought it was hysterical. What a silly memory.

But honestly, I hardly remember much about my best friend from elementary school, her likes, her dislikes, her secrets. And I don’t remember the day when our friendship ended. There wasn't a disagreement. There weren't tears. We just hit Jr. High and she went one way and I another.  We ran into each other at a wedding a few years ago and reminisced briefly, but at the end of the evening, I went home, and I assume she did too. We haven’t spoken since.

I don’t feel sadness when I think back about what we had. It was innocent. It was fun. Our friendship served its purpose in both of our lives, but we grew apart. These things happen. We both moved on to different friends, different experiences. And I’m sure that each friend we've had since has grown us and stretched us in different ways, molding and shaping us into who we are today.

Some friendships come. Some friendships go. If I could save friendships in a bottle, I think I’d choose not to. Because I think friendships were meant to be poured out, flowing over, each friend desiring God’s best for the other, through the joys and the sorrows, the together times and the separate times.

Image appears courtesy of Paul/freedigitalphotos.net 

And filled with giggles and silly memories.

I love my survivor friends. There are few topics we can’t explore. Recently, we've been discussing friendships. What do healthy friendships look like? When are they toxic? 

What ingredients do you think belong in a healthy friendship?