Growing up I would watch Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and think to myself, “If I won a million dollars, I’d go on several vacations. One with my family, one with my friends from school, one with my friends from church, etc.” I didn’t want anyone to be left out from one of my Caribbean vacations (because what 12 year old from the Midwest doesn’t want to go to Jamaica and the Bahamas?!). Every time I watched it, though, and someone would “phone a friend,” a sense of dread would overcome me. “Oh no,” I’d think, “They’re entrusting their chance at a million dollars to a friend. Bad idea. What if they get it wrong? That’s going to ruin the friendship.” Inevitably, some got it wrong, but often the person they called got it right because the contestant chose the smartest friend or the friend best versed in history or 80s rock bands. I would sigh with relief and continue dreaming about what to do with my imaginary fortune.
Life now feels like Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, except the million dollar prize is now just living life well and not losing my mind, and phoning a friend seems like the best option. Granted, I have my best friend with me all the time (I’m married to him). But, sometimes, I just need a little comfort outside of that. Yesterday I woke up to pictures on my Newsfeed about all my Jersey people’s day off because of storm Jonas and the piles of snow he dropped on them. They were watching movies together, playing in the snow drifts together, and partaking in general merriment of which I could not enjoy because I was getting dressed for church 900 miles away.
I didn’t realize how much it was upsetting me until Reed and I were debriefing about our first visit to a church in St. Louis. He had generally positive things to say about it and I could barely acknowledge any of the positives. We got back to our apartment and I broke down crying. Surprise, surprise, my feelings about that church weren’t exactly about that church. I missed our New Jersey friends. I missed church in New Jersey. I missed being known by the people stopping by the service desk at the library where I worked and by the friends in my classes. I missed being known by people at church. I missed the liturgy and lectionary of churches in New Jersey. I missed being totally and wholly accepted as a gay man (and gay couple) in church.
Then, on my way back to the apartment from an errand later that day, Amelia called. My friend phoned me. And, it was exactly what I needed. We spent most of our conversation bemoaning our lives and situations and why we weren’t living in the same place because it would be easier going through the same things together. We are really good at lamenting together (one could also read complaining in place of lamenting), but we laugh and joke our way through it. Laughter and grief go hand in hand many times and it’s almost always better when done with a friend. It was a brief call because she had to go minister to college students (because she’s a boss like that,) but that short call made my day a whole lot brighter. Not only did I get to talk to her, but Reed and I had a package waiting from her and Andrew on our doorstep with the fantastic mugs pictured above. Friendship for the win!
Next time you’re missing someone or something, or the next time you’re not sure how you’re going to make it through the day, phone a friend. When you know someone else will know just how to meet you where you are, phone a friend. When you need someone to hang out with because life sucks or life is great, but your day is terrible, phone a friend. I should have phoned a friend, but I didn’t. Instead, she phoned me, and it made all the difference. Don’t forget the community of people you have waiting at your doorstep, if only you open the door and let them in. Some are waiting patiently for you to open, some are knocking politely, and others are ringing your doorbell profusely every time they come over (you know who you are). Do yourself a favor and open it. You won’t regret it.
Timothy Burge-Lape 