Friendship as "I told you so!"

I crave the wisdom that comes with age. Like most people in their twenties, I often feel completely lost. When reading through an old prayer journal the other day, I stumbled upon one that began: “Father, I praise you for my youth. But admittedly only insofar as it passes . . .” What I wouldn’t give for just a quick snapshot of the future to point me in the right direction!

This sentiment always reminds me of something that my grandpa said while celebrating his fiftieth wedding anniversary: “The best part of getting old is that you get to keep all of the other ages you’ve ever been.”

Indeed.

Memory is such a gift. The older we get, the further we can reach back in time to draw upon the lessons we’ve learned. Yet even our most treasured memories—the ones we try to tuck most closely to our hearts—are subject to the elements. They are weathered by time, sterilized (or burned entirely) by love’s fire, and sometimes lost on the seas of change.

So how do we guard against this? I’ve found that the most effective method of preservation is friendship. People who share your memories can gently remind you of the lessons you’ve learned over time.

Last night, I had dinner with a dear friend who’s facing a bit of a bumpy road ahead. There are a few discouraging road blocks in her path and she’s unsure how to navigate around them. While empathy is normally my strong suit, I was completely unable to match the sadness in her eyes yesterday. I’m just really excited for her! Over the course of the six years that I’ve known her, she has blossomed into such a beautiful, faithful, loyal, patient, servant-hearted woman. She is meek in a Sermon-on-the-Mount kind of way—a mysterious virtue which completely eludes me. The hardened soil of her heart is being plowed right now, and that’s always a painful process. But that means that a growing season and a plentiful harvest are right around the corner. I can’t wait to taste and share the sweet fruit which is sure to be born! (I told her this last night, but, because I don’t think she believed me, I’m writing it again. We’ve been through more than one growing season together; as her friend, it’s my privilege to remind her of the changes I’ve seen across her metaphorical landscape.)

Shortly after dinner, when it was my turn to panic about my own life, I called another friend who has known me for over a decade. As I was spinning in rhetorical circles, she cut me off mid-tangent.

Her: Hey, do you remember when I was in your shoes . . .oh, let’s see, 8 years ago? We were 18. Do you remember what you told me?

Me: Um . . .

Her: You told me [x]. Great advice, huh? Now tell yourself that.

Me: These next few weeks are going to be full of "I told you so's," aren't they?

Her: Yes, and I can't WAIT!

In my opinion, that's what friendship is all about.