The Value of Friendship

This week my blog posting will take a different turn. On Wednesday, March 17, 2010 one of my dearest friends and mentors, Sam Derstine, passed away at the age of 89. I have been invited by his family to share a few thoughts at his memorial service planned for Tuesday, March 23. The following is my tribute to his friendship. I hope you will find it inspiring for your own relationships and wish that each of you might find a special friend like Sam in your life.

How would you define friendship? Is it simply sharing things in common with another person? Using that criteria one could make the case that Sam and I were friends because we both enjoyed early morning walks, baseball, and Wawa coffee. We have each owned a business, each chaired our Salford church board, and each taught the same Sunday school class. We both have enjoyed a healthy marriage and the joy of having children. In recent years Sam even grew whiskers, although I don’t think it was so he could emulate mine.

It’s good to know that two persons separated in age by more than 34 years could have so many common interests. But that is not what made our friendship special. In fact, if we are honest with ourselves, friendships don’t last because we share the passions or pursuits of another person. The relationships we cherish most grow out of shared pain and steadfast faithfulness. They take root in vulnerability and unconditional love. They grow because needs are met at their deepest level.

The Greek philosopher, Aristotle, wrote that “friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.” In the ten years that I spent visiting Sam on Tuesday’s after work our souls became one. Each hourly visit had a gentle rhythm. We would catch up on the activities from the day or previous week — family happenings, church news, Sunday school class updates, weather, or baseball. It wasn’t long before the conversations turned deeper — the pain of loss, anxiety and feelings of depression, regrets and disappointments. We were there for each other in those times, sharing the pain and touching the wounds without judgment or advice. Each visit would close with a devotional reading and prayer. Sam would often recall a verse of song that fit the text and serenade me. In our most recent visits I invited him to pray the Lord’s Prayer with me, something he did with clarity and commitment.

Sam’s passing will leave a gap in my life and schedule — much bigger than the hour I committed to those weekly visits. I have lost my most faithful prayer companion, a steady encourager, and a wonderful mentor.

Yet I rejoice that he also left me with many memories to cherish and life lessons to implement. Sam taught me how to deal with the pain of losses, big and small. I learned how to grow old with grace and dignity. He left me with a new appreciation for the hymns of our faith and how they can encourage us at every stage of life. Sam gave me hope for a better future in heaven, a place he looked forward to and talked often about.

It’s hard to say why God chose to bring us together and whether I will ever have another friend that means so much to me. I can only thank Sam for the happiness, strength, and understanding that remain from our friendship. These gifts will sustain me in this world that has been forever altered by his passing. It seems fitting that on a Tuesday night I’m paying one last weekly visit to my dear friend. I love you Sam!