House on the Rock

Welcome to friendship in your late twenties — the roaring, soaring, tears-pouring twenties. It seems the easy days of community we created in college are behind us. Walking with each other through hard tests and breakups prepared us for life a little, but nothing compared to what we’re learning right now. To sit on a futon with popcorn-salt smears and laugh through the tears of those early-twenties years — that was batting practice. We’ve made it to the big leagues.

It’s the age when all your grandparents start dying. Some have gone sooner, but no one tells you that this is the time when you nearly expect the late-night text, and you’re wondering sheepishly if yours will be next. You make a mental promise to call your own Grandma more while stirring soup for your grieving neighbor next door. Though yours is still living, you show up on their stoop — eyes filled with tears and a bowl filled with soup. This is friendship in your late twenties.

Your facebook feed alternates between pregnancy pictures and that post of a onesie that will never be worn. You’ll sit in your prayer group and wonder whether to pray for your baby when three women in the circle know only babies unborn. You might decide to hide behind a prayer request for less stress, or maybe you’ll let them in — after all, they are your best friends. And this is where the deepening begins. This is friendship in your late twenties.

Your calendar will be full of shiny save-the-dates as loved ones all over will soon tie the knot. This might remind you of that blissful day you got married, or perhaps it brings a painful sting that once again, you have not. Marriage might be a heart-wrenching word to you now, because the one you had promised has broken their vow. But you’ll pull up to white-chapel church anyway, and you’ll fight for your life to catch that bouquet, because you know without question they would do the same. This is friendship in your late twenties.

There’s a metaphorical rollercoaster you’ll ride as hills and valleys fill the same room. Their dancing will surely coincide with your mourning, but a few months later, the reverse will be true. It’s possible that her worst day will be your very best, and she may be needing adventure when all you need is rest. You’ll learn how hard it is to cry with those who cry, and you’ll have to celebrate someone when you just want to die.

What you must remember is to always keep that soup bowl ready. Celebrate their success with streamers and confetti. Think much more of them and far less of you — even when that feels impossible to do. Lay one hand on their forearm while you rush the throne of grace, and if you think, “I don’t want to bother them,” text them anyways. Know there will be many times they’re singing while you grieve, but know that the worst thing you could ever do is leave.