Do I Really Pick My Friends?

You can’t pick your family, but you can pick your friends.

Until I was fifty, I believed that ubiquitous lie. Sort of. The truth came to me as I sat on the sofa of a couple who had recently moved to another state. My husband and I had deviated from our route during a trip that was already too long—in both miles and time—to see them.

I remember thinking, “When we met seventeen years ago, I would never have imagined I would be sitting here today.”

When we met, we were outwardly incompatible, and we remained that way. However, we were friends. Shared life had made us friends.

Thinking back, I only tried to pick my friends twice. It didn’t work with Valerie in third grade. It did with Jennifer in seventh grade. All my other friends appeared. Divine encounters. Shared experiences. Shared ministries. Shared projects. Shared thoughts, All involved moments when something clicked that was out of my control.

Along the way I learned that I don’t control my friendships. Friends are a gift to be received, just as my family is a gift to be received.