Reunioning

This past summer, I officiated a wedding for a couple of friends from college. It had been a year of officiating a number of weddings for friends, actually. Despite the fact that I consider myself a romantic at heart, I tend to be a curmudgeon when it comes to weddings. One of the downsides of being a minister is that you see the worst of weddings. People who don't show they love each other well. Bridezillas or groomzillas (yes, there are plenty of both). Families who can't get along and aren't emotionally mature enough to knock off the drama for one. damn. afternoon. Family members or friends who can't manage to stay sober until after the ceremony is over. People obsessed with perfection. Weddings, I have learned, can go from lovely to a hot mess in a matter of minutes.

Yet last year's weddings have reminded me of how beautiful and touching the day can be. They were testaments to the fact that for those couples who have their priorities in the right place, the day will be just fine. And the wedding I officiated over the summer were for two lovely people, both of whom are generous and warm and kind, and love each other deeply.

It was a double blessing, because it gave me a chance to see many friends from college who I hadn't seen in years. I wondered whether it would be awkward, and whether we would still have things to talk about after the long stretch of time and distance. I shouldn't have worried. It's the wonderful thing about having chosen friends well; even after many years, you're able to pick up where you've left off. The weekend of the wedding felt like a reunion; it was so good to see old friends who knew me in a particular way during a formative time in my life. Which is why I felt so much warmth when I selected this week's person to write a letter to--one of the friends from that group. I lived with Maya* in a house with 10 other people for a year in college. It was one of the best and weirdest experiences I had. Living with 10 people taught me a lot. Maya taught me a lot, too, and it was in that house that we and other housemates would exchange ideas, philosophies, theologies (or reasons against theology), beliefs, fears,  and jokes. Maya has this hilarious dry wit that only comes from someone who pays attention and is smart as a whip. One of the things I realized this summer, and that came back for me as I wrote this letter was that I missed that space, and I missed those people whose lives changed me in subtle but important ways.

It's one of the growing pains of growing up; you can't always be in touch with all of the people who have impacted your life. People move away. People get married. Some have babies. Priorities change. But even if time or circumstance or miles change your relationship, it doesn't change the effect those people have had on you. Sometimes you get the blessing of reconnection. Sometimes you don't. But it feels good to be grateful for moments already gone by, and moments yet to come.


*name changed