
Two Thursday nights ago I helped Emily Carlson lead music for "9 o'clock"—Union's new all-music worship. Just guitars and vocals, no mics, no lights, very low-key. Emily and I lingered in the Rees Hall chapel afterward, and she taught me Starfield's "Cry in My Heart."
As we made our way out I noticed in my peripheral some students gathered around a table in the lobby playing a very loud game of cards. My heart ached.
Years ago I would've been at that table. Those would've been my friends, and if they saw me walk by, they would've called me to join them. But everything passes, and time goes away. I turned and continued walking out of the lobby.
"Ben!"
Kenny and Taleah called after me, waving from the table for me to come join them. Surprised and glad, I turned and walked back, pulled up a chair, and we played "Ghetto UNO" for the next hour. Everyone agreed it was the best game night ever, and we made plans to do it again.
The next night I got to vespers ten minutes late, walked all the way up to the second row from the front, and stood awkwardly in the aisle while Pastor Rich talked about the Sabbath candle and the already full row of friends shifted to make room for me in the middle between Taleah and Emily. "I wanted to sit by you for your iPhone," said Taleah.
And as I sat there in vespers happily squeezed into that row with my friends, it occurred to me that five years ago I didn't know any of them. Five years ago I didn't think I would ever make any new dear friends again.
But I have.
It's like my life at Union has been a TV show, and I'm the lead character, but all the regulars from season one have left the show. These newbies are all a bit younger. They're my support now. I'm invested in them. Still part of me hopes the writers will bring back an old character for a special guest appearance, or maybe have a flashback or some kind of reunion so we can pretend, just for one night, that things are the way they used to be and nothing's changed.
For a few months now Ben Barber and I have been getting together once a week for Music Night. We sit in the Barber's living room till late, playing guitar, singing old songs, learning new ones. Sometimes other friends and family join in; sometimes it's just us. It feels like finding something I forgot I lost.
Last Tuesday my college roommate Justin and I talked on the phone for over an hour. I hadn't heard his voice since May. We're not very good at keeping in touch. There's so much distance, we're both busy, but we still care. So we scheduled a time to connect. It's good to schedule the time.
Friendships evolve; they are not static. We either adapt, or we're left behind. Five years ago I didn't know what that meant. Now I've made and lost enough to understand.













