My Best Friend

My best friend is Conner Clemens. I haven't spoken to him in several years, and that was but a brief and awkward moment. It was years before that, and years before that. I would say in the last 15 years I've spoken with him three times. Maybe. All of them brief.

I moved to Oregon in August, a few months before I turned 7, and one month before school started. I just moved here, not even settled down, and then I had to take another leap into the wide world of Public School. First Grade. Mrs. Hubadavacheck. Yep, that's a real name and a real person. I remember being scared to death, and wondering how I was going to make it without my mom being there. But I did somehow, and out of it I met my best friend. We had a fantastic Elementary School boyhood. He had a "field" for a back yard (it was just a big yard, not at all a field. It's sad how things get smaller the older you get) and we liked to play war, football, knights, whatever back there. We would stay up late at his house playing his Sega and watching TV. The house he lived in had four bedrooms, and two living rooms, so his sister, mom, and himself would move around from room to room. It seemed like it was always a different room each time I stayed the night. Sometimes his mom would take us into town, and we would play with all the toys in the store. Every year we went to the fair on bracelet day. The only word to describe those days is scrumtrulescent.


We also had matching Nerf Chainsaw guns. Quite possibly the best Nerf guns EVER.
Every once and a while he would come stay at my house, but I never liked when that happened. My house was dumb, and small. I didn't have a Sega, we didn't have cable. We had four bedrooms, but they were all smaller, and all full of people. One time when he stayed over we had the genius idea of "ghosting" our bikes down the street. We never even imagined that it wouldn't go straight and hit our neighbors truck. Due to our poor imagination Mr. Mark got a huge dent in his truck. My stomach was in my shoes, and trying to push everything out as it went down. Conner was on the verge of tears, not making any sense, so scared of what his dad was going to do when he found out. I still feel awful when I think about it. Somehow, I think Mr. Mark has forgiven me. He's been a great friend of our family, and always good to me.

I think war and guns were our favorite subjects. We loved playing with guns. And Jurassic Park. That was an amazing movie. Conner even had the game for Sega. That thing is tough! Stupid raptors.... We both loved movies, and to read. He tried getting me to read LOTR, but I was too young to understand. It looked WAY too big for me. I was trying to work my way through Lewis' Narnia, and that was hard enough. Conner had this super cool denim jacket with sweatshirt type sleeves and hood. Sometimes he let me wear it and I felt like a true bad-A. It was awesome. His grandma always made a salad at mealtime, and she put boiled eggs and ham in it. Loved it. My favorite salads still involve those ingredients. Conner was the funniest kid I knew. All the time he made me laugh. I couldn't tell you now what he said, but everybody knew he was hilarious. In fifth grade we made a video for reading class, and he still cracks me up.

I don't know what happened. Fifth grade was the last time we were friends. I only have my memory to go by, and I don't have his take on things, but all I remember is he started pushing me away. And then I was really confused. And we stopped hanging out. And then...well here I am. I haven't really talked to my best friend in over a decade. And now I feel like I don't have any friends. Sure, there are people in my life that love me, but I dunno, I can't connect. Or give back. Or truly open up. I've tried a couple of times, but it seems the more I open up, or the closer I get, then it takes a nosedive. I feel like I don't really fit in. And I don't know how to interact, or give back, or show love.

This is something that I've struggled with, well since fifth grade. I hope this is a beginning of giving it up to God. Of letting this go. Of no longer focusing on me, what I did wrong, how I'm a terrible friend, and instead just be. To not overthink, to not try to control, to not be afraid of people. By letting go of this pain, or caring so much about this scar, I will attempt to live in the hope of God's goodness, purpose and His ultimate control.

^"28And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. ²⁹For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. ³⁰And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified."