Faithful are the Wounds of a Friend

When our children are very little, the tiniest scrape or scratch sends us running to the medicine cabinet for first aid. Often, a kiss is all a boo-boo really needs – the ability to heal a hurt is one of those God-given talents unique to mothers. As our children age, however, the hurts they endure are often not visible to the naked eye. Some we will hear about, others we will sense but not be able to identify, and many we will never learn of at all. And for the most part, these emotional bruises will not heal with merely a well placed kiss.

My son and his best friend broke up. The friendship ended abruptly for reasons that are too convoluted to make much sense to an adult. The final result is that two boys who spent the past year and a half joined at the hip, heads together laughing at an inside joke, and talking on the phone for hours during Club Penguin marathons now behave like virtual strangers when they pass in the hall. The other boy has moved on to different friends with different interest than the ones he shared with my son, while my boy, though still popular, hangs back a bit now, unsure of his footing in the hierarchy of near middle-school boys. He sees, suddenly, that you can be in one day and out the next, with little or no warning and often no clue as to what you did wrong. The tide turns, the clique realigns, and like pre-school musical chairs, somebody becomes the odd man out.

For me the split feels personal and ragged and sharp; I try not to meddle but it is difficult. This boy’s mom and I are good friends too. What happens to grown up friendships when their children no longer want to set up play dates and sleepovers? For me and the other mom, it means tippy toeing around the subject of our kids and trying not to place blame. It means finding ways to get together without kids as part of the equation. And I suspect it means figuring out if our own friendship has enough emotional glue to withstand this emotional storm.

For now I struggle to find words to encourage my son that don’t sound completely parental and lame. He will make other friends. This won’t always hurt. He and this boy may end up being best friends again. It really will be O.K.

In the meantime, I’m on a desperate search for a heart-shaped band aid. One for him. One for me.