The Practice of Friendship

Cold? No problem. Snow? Whatever.

I squinted out the kitchen window at the decades-old thermometer that is barely attached to my house. 

30 degrees. 

Snow was plopping down- the big, thick wet flakes that instantly drench hair and soak through a sweatshirt. 

My 14-year-old son gently placed a log in the fire pit, and his friend used the heat from the flame to toast a marshmallow on a stumpy, wide stick. 

My 12-year old daughter and her friend walked down the deck stairs, hot cocoa in hand, and sat by the fire. They were deep in conversation about who-knows-what.  

I turned over four grilled cheese sandwiches on the stove and thought about how much I admire these middle schoolers- because for weeks and months on end, they have sacrificed comfort and ease to keep their friendships strong. 

Me? Not so much. 

Already distanced by the struggle of plain-old life in my 40s, I’ve allowed the pandemic, especially this winter stretch, to fully deep-freeze my friendships. 

This past year has made obvious what we have known for a long time:

Friendship is a practice, not a miracle. 

Without regular, intentional connection, friendship fades. This is true whether we are 14 or 43. 

The pandemic removed the automated, daily routine of school, so my kids have had to figure out a way to stay connected. 

It was easy to figure out a way to be together in the summer months… but I guess it’s intentional practice, long after “easy” has faded, that makes friendship strong.

They get together with friends for 90-ish minutes almost every single week. It was easier when they days were long and the weather was warmer- but they haven’t let circumstance stop them. They mask up and ignore whatever is annoying: bugs, rain, the dark, or the cold. They don’t need entertainment or expect anything fancy- I leave them hot cocoa and simple boring food, and they just kind of hang out. Sometimes they take a walk, but usually they just sit and chat. 

I was thinking about what that kind of maintenance would look like for my friendships- 

Regular text messages? Phone calls? Zoom calls? Meeting up between distant towns for outdoor walks? 

But because…

• responsibility divides and consumes my attention,

• life has so many extra steps now,

• and because I’m out of practice....

it all feels like so much work. 

But I guess it’s not.

A quick look out the kitchen window reminds me that the true cost of friendship is a willingness to be a little uncomfortable, multiplied by regular practice.