Amy Boucher Pye

Tag: friendship

A Friendship That Ended Too Quickly

I closed the door quietly, not wanting to wake my parents as I knew they’d be asleep. As I walked toward the basement door I thought it was odd that the light was on – my parents were so good at turning off lights when not needed. I headed down the stairs and looked up with a start at the tear-stained face of my mother. My stomach dropped.

“Is it Grandpa?”

She shook her head, unable to speak.

“What’s going on?” I said, fear pervading my insides.

“It’s Sue. She was killed in a car accident.”

“No! No! No!” I screamed as my mom tried to comfort and quiet me.

In that instant, my world changed forever.

♥♥♥

Sue and I before a double date. Here we were feasting on the leftover ice cream from the ice cream pie we made for the dessert. Of course, a lot of the fun was had in the preparation of the date. She was with Lonnie; my date was Tom Marzolf who went to St. Paul Academy – wowee, we thought.

Today is the thirty-year anniversary of the death of Susan Carol Weavers. That October I was in my sophomore year at Bethel College and living back at my parents’ house after living on campus my freshman year. I was taking a required class that explored the arts, if I remember right, and I had been to the Minnesota Orchestra that night as part of the class. I left for Orchestra Hall a carefree young person but upon my return felt the weight of the unexpected – and unwelcome – death of one of my best friends. Besides the sheer horribleness of grief, in the coming months I would undergo a crisis of faith about how a good God could allow someone so young, smart, caring, and wonderful to die.

♥♥♥

I met Sue Weavers when she returned from living in Japan with her family. We became fast friends, and soon I knew I could always depend on her as one who would listen when I was down and who was always up for a new adventure. Though she had traveled and lived abroad, she never lauded her cosmopolitan understanding over us who had never left the country – or even the Midwest. She accepted me for who I was and loved me all the same.

She had gone to the University of Minnesota at Duluth while I stayed in the Cities, and on that fateful night had been out driving with a guy, sitting next to him without wearing a car seat. On her desk back in her room was a letter I had sent her, which would remain forever unopened. I’ve kept her letters, and now when I see her handwriting I’m instantly transported back, hearing her voice and seeing her smile.

♥♥♥

I find it poignant that Sue never finished signing my yearbook…

This summer when I was back in Minnesota, some of my high-school friends and I went to visit her grave. But we went on a Saturday when the office was closed and none of us could remember exactly where she’s buried. We walked along the rows of gravestones, searching in vain for our friend. “How can I not remember?” I wondered, thinking of the many times I would visit her grave, bringing a sandwich from Arby’s during my lunchbreak from the law office where I worked the summer after she died. After an hour or so, we gave up, feeling the poignancy of what we’d lost by the fruitless search in the cemetery. She was there, but she wasn’t.

Those of us in our high-school group have remained lifelong friends, perhaps because the shock and horror of losing Sue bonded us together as nothing else would. Of course I would rather she lived, but I’m grateful that we have this gift of friendship over the years of people who know us, warts and all. With each other we can descend into shorthand (“I’m spent!”) or pose the normally unaskable questions of each other.

♥♥♥

Our life can change in a moment, as mine did thirty years ago. Sue, I miss you.

Some of the gang at Kara’s cabin. Kara (R) and Sue (middle) sitting on the dock and Jill (L) and me (R) standing.

Sue and Kara skiing. Remember those big mirrored sunglasses?

October 15, 2016
Books and Friends – An Interview with Debbie Duncan and Cathy LeFeuvre

Here’s an interview that ran in Woman Alive previously from when I chatted with two great friends – Deborah Duncan and Cathy LeFeuvre, who bonded during the morning commute. Their friendship inspired a fictionalized account of two friends who become a life line to each other. Life Lines is published by Authentic Media.

During our journeys to work together, we talked about not only the day-to-day stuff, but we also began to chat about things that had happened in the past. We laughed – a lot – about some of the ridiculous things that had occurred in both our lives. We started a private blog where we shared more stories and became more creative, making up stories as well. Suddenly, we found we had 20,000 words, some fantastically funny anecdotes which also had some kernels of depth, and we had created these two fictional friends – Louise and Esther. We had the foundation for our book.

Although many of the stories were birthed in our imagination, some are based on reality. Believe it or not, the very first story in the book – where Esther writes to Louise about the previous evening’s most hideous ‘Christian Singles Night’ is based on a real evening, with lots of embellishments, of course.

And there is another story in the book where Louise attends a church event (not at her church) and attempts to get one of the leaders to talk to a woman who obviously wants to know more about the Gospel. When she approaches a male leader to ask if he will speak to the woman, he looks at Louise and says ‘You’re a woman…!’ Implying that he, as a man, is ill equipped to talk to a female about Jesus. That, unfortunately and bizarrely, is also based on a true incident.

A key to a really great friendship is shared experiences and often shared values. Even if you’re separated by geography, it’s important to keep in touch. That’s why sometimes, even if we haven’t seen our great friends for a while, we just pick up where we left off.

Women talk. That’s a reality! We talk to each other about lots of things that are happening to us, and we share confidences and troubles, fears and joys. Sometimes there are things that women can only share with other women, without being misconstrued or misunderstood. It doesn’t mean we don’t share with the men in our lives, but most women will recognize the importance of female friends. Louise and Esther are two such friends!

Admittedly some of their confidences are rather over-egged and exaggerated for literary effect, but at the heart of Life Lines is the truth that when one has a friend or friends with whom you can truly share, some of the bad stuff we encounter in life doesn’t appear so awful after all.

Being a good friend involves accountability. Sometimes it’s only your closest friends who can tell you just how irrationally you may be behaving. In Life Lines, when Louise begins to behave irrationally over the matter of some fair trade chocolate eggs, it’s up to Esther to tell her just how mad her behaviour is, but in such a way that Lou doesn’t fly off the handle but sees just how hilariously weird she has become.

They say a problem shared is a problem halved – well that’s true. In the case of Esther and Louise (and Debbie and Cathy) a problem laughed over also helps a great deal. Sharing things that happen to us helps to put situations into perspective; it helps us to see the big picture outside of the small hurts and gossip that unfortunately pervades even in church. And when wonderful things happen, it’s fantastic to have someone with whom to celebrate.

True friendship is not a competition. Some friends may feel possessive, which can be difficult. At times, friendship is one sided, with one friend having to do all the hard work. If we’re losing friends, then maybe we’re the one who always expects our friends to contact us.

Being a friend means being sensitive to the needs of others. In Life Lines there’s the story of Sue who asks Esther if she can borrow her unused wedding dress – unused because Esther has just been dumped! That (fictional) story, and others, reveals how best not to do friendship, and how not to become so obsessed with your own world that you forget that others around you are hurting. That blinkered type of friendship, when it is all about you and not the other person, is probably not a friendship at all.

Social media can help us be a better friend – by staying in touch. It’s very easy to send messages and have conversations that way. But remember, no amount of social media status updates can replace face to face meetings. Or phone calls where we hear each other’s voices.

Even though one of us is married and the other is not, we have so much in common. It’s great to have a friend whom we can unburden to at times, and encouragement is a very important part of our friendship. Laughter is often the way we handle this – seeing the funny side of a situation sometimes is a great help. We also pray together, which is fantastic encouragement. For we’re both Christian women seeking to find God’s will for our lives.

Of course, being married and being a mother brings a whole host of responsibilities and being a single also has its challenges but ultimately we believe God has a purpose for each one of us outside of our personal relationships or status. God does not define us by our marital status, even if church and the world sometimes does. We try to encourage each other to be the person God wants us to be … for ourselves.

Ultimately, true friends will remain close – no matter what is happening in their lives!

June 26, 2015
Kindred spirits

“Heaven will be a grand reunion with people who might have become dear friends, had circumstances/geography/time not limited us.”

So said I to a woman I had only ever met once by email when interviewing her for the Woman Alive Book Club that I run. I had read her spiritual memoir and resonated deeply with her story, and when we exchanged emails I felt that instant knowing of someone who just gets you. Someone with whom you share similar loves and interests (God, books, culture…). Lest you fear I’m some strange stalker, she felt the connection too.

Have you had that experience of an instant soul friendship? Sometimes I’ve thought I should feel this almost inexplicable link with other people who are in similar life circumstances – whether we both work with words or are married to a clergyman or live as an ex-pat. But that’s not always the case. There’s that extra “something” with some other friendships that seems to bind our hearts and minds at a deeper level.

I’m finding it hard to write about these soul connections, because I don’t want to devalue the friendships I have with people who are different from me, who challenge me in ways that someone cut out of more similar cloth might not. Friendship is a gift in whatever its form or depth. Nor do we have time for endless numbers of friends either; we live within boundaries and limitations.

Which takes me back to my opening line about heaven. In heaven I reckon we’ll all have soul connections with each other. We won’t be limited by space or geography or time. We’ll know and be fully known. We’ll look into the eyes of our sisters and brothers and see all that is good and true and beautiful about them. How they are made in the image of God and how they reflect that beauty. And as we feast together – never over-indulging nor worrying about excess calories – we’ll rejoice in unity and communion and that mysterious one-with-God-and-each-otherness.

What about you? Have you had this experience of instantly knowing, at some sort of deep level, someone else?

July 10, 2013
With a little help from my friends…

Some of the high-school friends after finishing the London MoonWalk in May 2011.

Some of my closest friendships were forged in the fire of grief. When I was nineteen, I arrived home late from a classical concert. Wondering why the light was on downstairs, I went down and was surprised to see my mom. Her eyes were red from crying and I immediately said, “Did Grandpa die?”

“No,” she said, “It’s Sue. She was killed in a car accident.”

In a flash, my world was changed forever. I started screaming out, “Why? Why? Why?” My mom tried to comfort me, but I was in shock. Coming to terms with why God would allow one of my closest high-school friends die so young, with so much life in front of her, would consume me in the days and years to come.

Why does God allow suffering? I haven’t found easy answers, and no doubt never will know fully this side of heaven. But as I queried theologians and wise friends in the faith, I saw that I had to go back to Genesis 3 and the Fall, when Adam and Eve followed the crafty serpent and disobeyed God. With this act, the world was altered and sin entered in. Now bad things would happen to good people. People would die in car accidents and from disease. Unjust rulers would steal from their subjects. Hurricanes and earthquakes would wipe out thousands. Our world is fractured.

But God hasn’t given us up for lost. In his most gracious act, he gave us his son to pay the price for that first act of sin and disobedience. He is ushering in a new kingdom and a new earth. He is redeeming what was lost.

The tragedy of the death of Sue Weavers that night in October 1986 was huge for me and my circle of high-school friends. In our grief we turned to each other, trying to make sense of the gaping hole in our lives. We met up, sometimes laughing and sometimes crying. Over the years the friendships have lasted. Indeed, one of us commented recently that her friend noticed a deep graciousness between us. Borne out of suffering and pain, no doubt.

Two summers ago our friendship witnessed a new level of grief – the pain of a mother whose son, at twenty, was killed in a car accident. It seems surreal that one of us can now say to her son’s friends that she knows what they are feeling. That she has endured the early loss of a friend and mate. That she prays they will find hope in God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And that their friendships will last and deepen and bear the fruit that ours have in the years after Sue’s untimely death.

In this life we will have trouble – so said Jesus to his disciples (John 16:33). But as he says, in him we will have peace as well. I so wish Sue hadn’t died in Duluth, Minnesota, all those years ago. But I’m forever grateful for my circle of friends who would jump off Tower Bridge if I asked.

How about you? Can you think of some of your favorite friends? How have they made an impact in your life? Comment below – I’d love to hear.

May 31, 2013
God shows up

“It’s a hungry monster,” I said.

But my resistance was futile, and having relinquished my fears, I am penning my first blog post. I promise to feed the monster regularly – at least three times a week – with posts, including stories and anecdotes of how God shows up in our lives regularly. I love it when he does that.

I have a long-distance friend with whom I enjoy a slap-up meal when we meet up. We talk of books, love, literacy, disability, travels… give us a Jamie Oliver restaurant and we can chat into the night.

Recently I emailed her about a book-related issue, and as I started to sign off, I had the sudden thought that I should ask her about men. Such as if any of that vast mass of humanity had come to his senses yet and asked her out. As a spiritual rule I try to be sensitive and not bring up, again and again, what can be painful subjects. To the infertile couple: “Any news?” To the hoping singleton: “Any men?” It’s just not helpful, is it.

So with some fear and trepidation, I asked about the man situation, keeping it short and light. She wrote back the next day with delight, saying that yes indeed there was a guy and things were cool and exciting and…

And I sat back and thought, “Wow God. Your Spirit prompted me there, didn’t it?” I acted on a little thought, stepping out in faith, which resulted in my friend and I sharing a new layer of intimacy. Delighting in the wonder of young love when possibilities seem unlimited and quirks are charming. Giving thanks for prayers answered.

What nudges are you sensing today?

May 13, 2013