Ghosts of the Past June 14, 2006
Posted by C. in Just Me.trackback
I just received a notification from an old primary/secondary school acquaintance asking me to add her to my friends network. She left me a message too. This is all very surreal. We were best friends from the ages 7-12 thereabouts but we quickly grew apart when we reached secondary school. Towards the end, we were barely on speaking terms and I haven’t seen much of her in some 5-6 years now.
I looked at her network and recognised many people I went to school with years ago. It’s funny how friendships in high school change. I never had much in common with these girls and I think I have even less in common with them now. I know if we were to meet on the street we would probably make awkward small talk about what we’re doing with work or studies before moving on back to our own little worlds. I admit I don’t have many friends from school days that I still keep in touch with on a pseudo-regular basis. The ones that I do, well they know who they are and possibly the main reason we’re still in touch is that they are largely unpretentious and conversation with them still comes easy. Incidentaly the majority of them are or have become Christians although I don’t think they were growing too much in the faith when I first knew them. That has changed now though, and their dedication to God that I see is a great comfort and joy to me.
So with some degree of trepidation I added this person to my network. I no longer care for her or most of the people on her list and I’m sure they feel the same about me. We move in very different circles now. I suppose I only did it for old time’s sake. We had fun when we were little, having sleepovers and making up stories about our stuffed animals. And although the bond we had no longer exists I somehow feel a sense of responsibility to be a witness of God’s love to her. Eventhough I don’t feel it, love is about action rather than emotion. I know I can put past differences aside and show love to her if I’m given the opportunity.
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