new to you friday–seasons of love

In the last 12 years I’ve lived in four different states (for those of you playing at home: Pennsylvania, Ohio, California and Tennessee). This wanderlust + lots of friends and family members who also move around = a community of loved ones around the country (and a really messy address book).

Two years ago I wrote about the gratitude I feel for these friendships. I still feel that way—there is simply nothing like old friends who knew you then and still love you now.

Problem is, that was two years ago. I am now two years older, I’ve lived in Nashville two years longer, and I have two more friends here than when I wrote this.

Lame.

I also work almost two times as much, travel about two times a month and have 200% fewer reasons to step foot in a traditional office environment. So I try to remember my current lifestyle makes it harder to connect with people, and I shouldn’t be too hard on myself.

But it’s time to make some changes. My community is supportive and loving…..and, except for a few wonderful people, mostly in other cities.

I’ve allowed myself to cross the line from independence (good) to isolation (not good) without even realizing it—after all, I’ve never had to “work at” making friends before. Now I do, and this coming year I plan to be more intentional about building a new community in Nashville. No one will take the place of older friends, but it’s time to create some seasons of love down here. Or move again, and I just finished unpacking from the last move yesterday.

—————————————————————————————————————

Last year I traveled to San Francisco with some of my favorite people to celebrate a friend’s completion of the SF marathon (and to ogle the firemen giving away jewelry at the finish line).

Last weekend I attended the long-anticipated college graduation of one of my closest friends; the super fun celebration included a Ford Mustang Convertible (yes, we rode with the top down and the heat up), several late nights, a dinner party for 11, lots of laughing, and a full-on Santa costume. (Long story.)

Last night I listened to another good friend share her struggles to understand and accept a medical diagnosis.

Today I cried with a new friend here in Nashville who’s facing Christmas while grieving the recent death of her best friend in a car wreck.

In the 1996 musical “Rent,” the company sings,

How do you measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes—how do you measure a year in the life? How about love? Measure in love.

Every bone in my cynical body wants to avoid sounding all after-school-specialish, but the older I get the more I value the friends who have become a second family. This year we navigated a couple of moves, a few graduations, an engagement, some kids starting kindergarten, some new babies on the way. We shared a year of midnights and misunderstandings and also some moments of laughing so hard those cups of coffee almost spewed back out our noses.

Ugh—I’m getting sentimental in my old age. But this Christmas I’m so grateful for all 525,600 minutes.