I have this old friend (and if you think you know who it is, do us both a favor and tell yourself that you don't) that I have seen all of three times since I left on my mission. The first two times were at high school reunions; the third time was just a few weeks ago at a funeral, and it was surreal. It was surreal because for the last few years she has been shutting me out in social media.
For several years I have been connecting with old high school friends via social media, and I was rather excited when this old friend showed up one day. Perhaps I was too enthusiastic when I sent her a message saying that it was great to see her on social media. She did not respond to my message and, in fact, it seemed that she disappeared. But a few months later I saw another old friend refer to her in a post. It appeared that she was still active at that social media site, but that she had blocked me.
This was a startling revelation. Why would she block me? What could I have done that would lead her to do that? As I often do, I spent too much time thinking about this, trying to figure out what, if anything, I might have done that could have upset her. This started a downward spiral that would take a long time to recover from.
After a few months I asked a mutual friend on social media to pass a message to this old friend that I was sorry. I left it alone for a few months but felt that I was sinking deeper into depression. Then I had the idea of writing her a letter; this seemed like a really bad idea, but the thought persisted and I have learned to pay attention any time an idea persists. I prayed about it, and about what I might say in the letter. When I had finished it, I prayed again about whether I should actually send the letter. Throughout it all I felt good about it, despite my continuing concern that it wasn't actually a good idea.
Several more months went by. I was having a very hard time, and not just regarding whatever was going on with this old friend. I was in the middle of a long period of unemployment, and there were a number of other issues going on. Many problems defied simple explanation, or a simple solution.
One day in the spring, I went for a walk in Salt Lake City, taking photographs, something I loved to do, and which often made me feel better. The beauty of spring led me to call out to God in prayer and express gratitude for this beautiful earth and the opportunity I had to photograph it. As I communed with God, I soon began to pray about the several challenges I was then experiencing -- including this situation with my old friend that really did seem to be the least of my problems. As I continued to pray, as I took more pictures of nature, I felt impressed to ask a mutual friend to act as an intermediary.
I was not sure that asking for mediation was a good idea but, again, the idea persisted. So I reached out to a friend, who agreed to act as an intermediary. Through this my old friend answered to say that I was forgiven and that she harbored no ill feelings. This was good news, but what came next was surprising as she said it would be best not to open any doors of friendship and that I should move on.
Move on? From what? Ironically, though she said that she prayed for my peace, she was doing something which would actually deny me that peace. Instead of making things better, her response actually made things more difficult. At the same time, I was now experiencing some emotions that up to that point I had been deferring. Before she let me know that she had forgiven me, my focus had been on what I must of have done, and I gave little thought to her silence beyond my frustration at being in the dark. After she said she forgave me, I started having feelings about how she had left me twisting in the wind.
“Moving on,” turned out to be harder than I had expected, and I thought it was a hard thing I was being asked to do. From what I was "moving on" I still didn't know. When she said that she forgave me, I replied that I also forgave her, but now I found it next to impossible to stop thinking about her, and I could not find peace. Each time I thought of her I started countering those thoughts by saying "who?"
"How could she do that to me?"
"Who?"
"How could she shut me out like that and leave me in the dark?"
"Who?"
The mutual friend who had acted as an intermediary suggested that the next time I saw this old friend that I should act normal and be polite. But that actually left me wondering just how I would react if I ran into her. Everywhere I went I seemed to anticipate the possibility that I might run into her, and wondered what would I do and what she would do. This was crazy, because I had seen this person all of twice in the previous 25 years! So I leaped on that little fact and started telling myself that the odds of my running into her was about a million to one. The more I did that, the more it helped.
Then one sleepless night, I thought about what I might say to her. As I ran through it in my mind, trying to explain, I found myself comparing my friendship with her to my friendships with others. I thought about how I had written a friend from the mission field before he entered the MTC, how I went by his house when I got home to talk to his mother and find out how he was doing, and how I went by his house the day he came home. As I thought about this friend and some others, I began to realize how unique my relationship with each was. Suddenly I had these feelings of peace wash over me. Then I concluded that though there were things I could say to this old friend, there wasn't anything that I needed to say to her. With that I finally found peace.
That night was almost two years ago. Though I had found peace, there was still a challenge. Finding peace did not remove the wall that she had placed between us. Even as I was able to hang on to that peace, I also could not help but be aware of that wall. It would not go away, and I continued to tell myself that the odds of running into her were a million to one -- and in some situations, probably a lot higher, even 5 million to 1.
The say that time heals all wounds but that may or may not be true. While some wounds appear to be remarkably resistant, even to time, things do seem to get at least a little easier. I thought about her less and less and I didn't have to keep reminding myself of the odds. Meanwhile, in other areas of my life, things were also getting better. All was well, and then I went to a funeral.
The service was for the father of a mutual friend, and I fully expected to see my old friend that day. But how things played out was unexpected, and rather surreal. My wife went in to the chapel to get a seat while I parked the car. I went in and sat beside my wife and saw two rows ahead of me, in my direct line of site, this old friend. Throughout the entire service, which lasted two hours, she was right there, so close yet so far away. I had expected that it could be a difficult situation even before I went to the service, but this made it harder than I could have imagined. I prayed for help, and I got through it. After the service she walked out of the chapel; I don't think she ever saw me.
In the days since the funeral I have felt almost that I am back at square one. The wall, which I had stopped being constantly aware of, is again glowing like a neon sign. I can't help but think of Ronald Reagan speaking in a divided Berlin, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall." My old friend, I don't need an explanation and there is nothing that I need to say. I would ask only for a small ray of light to drive away the shadows.
I did what you asked me to do. Now, please, have mercy on me, grant me that small ray of light and tear down this wall.
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