Boxwood or Moonflower?

The best friendships take a lifetime to grow. Like two boxwood shrubs planted side by side weathering vicious drought and prospering in the sweet, fresh rain of spring, they mature until even the keen gardener’s eye can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. Beneath the soil that nourishes both, their roots are resolutely intertwined. One may eventually live when the other loses its life, but the survivor will forever be marked by the soft indentations of the life of the other.

Other friendships bloom in an instant like the moonflower. The promise of the flower can be seen almost from nowhere, the day after only stalk and leaves are visible. The next evening, in a matter of minutes, the bud springs into a fully-formed, intricate flower much like time-lapse video of a butterfly being reborn from a dark cocoon. With the warmth and light of the next day’s sun, the flower withers and falls to the ground, leaving other buds the privilege of displaying their beauty in the coming night shadow.

It’s a sweet blessing indeed to have one true boxwood friend in your life. On the one hand, attracted to each other like children are drawn to the rows of candy stacked at their eye level in the Wal-Mart checkout line. On the other hand, making deliberate choices through the years to stick together when feelings get hurt, other priorities intervene, or miles divide. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for each other. They get you.

I’m honored to have more than one of these friends in my life, including my husband who is (if I’m sticking to plant analogies) more like kudzu weaving inextricably through my life and heart.

Even though boxwood friends form a lush background of stability and trust, no well-landscaped life is complete without the beauty of friends who wander in and out. Like the moonflower, these relationships grow quickly, bloom, and fade away. These are friends you meet as neighbors, classmates, co-workers or you connect because of a shared interest, cause, or circumstance. Thankfully, these relationships last longer than a moonflower blossom, but they aren’t lifelong.

You may become tight with someone from your yoga class or a group of moms whose kids go to school with your kid. These beautiful friendships can last months or years before they begin to fade. Even when they’re gone, the thought of them brings a smile to your face.

Years ago, my feelings were hurt when a friend who I thought was a BFF forgot a lunch date, then canceled the makeup date at the last minute. The calls became shorter and happened less often. I took it hard and, truth be told, even felt a little resentful.

Then I realized that our paths in life had simply diverged. She had moved an hour away, gotten married, and had a child and a busy career. Nothing about it invalidated the genuineness of our friendship. We’d shared a lot of joys and struggles and made life better for each other.

Since then, I’ve learned to hold my friends with an open hand, to love them the best I can while they’re in my life and pray for their happiness when they’re not.

It reminds me of a poem that I memorized years ago (sorry, I can’t remember the author’s name). Here’s a portion:

This much we know, friends come, friends go

as April’s gladness passes.

As sun and shade in swift parade

paint changes on meadow grasses.

With warmth and cheer they linger near,

these friends we fondly treasure.

Then on a day they drift away. . .

a loss no words can measure.

And though we grieve to see them leave,

in thought we still enfold them.

In memory’s net we keep them yet