Silver and Gold

I was in 5th grade when I joined the Girl Scouts.  At one of the first meetings of North Alabama's newly formed Troop 396, we learned a sweet little song called Make New Friends: 

Make new friends, but keep the old.

One is silver, and the other, gold.

 I can't remember why we were taught the song. Perhaps it was a way to quiet down a noisy group of excited pre-teens. Perhaps it was a box to be checked off to earn a friendship badge. Or perhaps it was something the leaders hoped to plant in our fickle, immature brains: friends—both old and new—are precious.  Whatever the reason, the song impacted me: it became my life's motto.   

And now, 50-something years later, I realize that song has been a primary source of my angst and misery.  Somewhere along the way, my innocent pursuit of collecting friends morphed into what I now realize was unrealistic: I had to be a friend to everyone and do whatever it took to please all my friends.   

Even before I joined Scouts, I made friends easily…or rather I should say I became friends easily.  I only initiated a friendship when there was no risk of rejection. I was shy and quiet around people I didn't know.  But when an offer of friendship was extended—or accepted—I was all in.  I was a committed and loyal friend. 

I knew all about commitment and loyalty.  As the daughter of a career Marine, I was the ultimate, overachieving, rules girl.  I knew I must comply with all rules issued by an adult, without question, without hesitation, and without complaint.  So, when my adult troop leader taught us the lyrics, I took the instructing words literally.  I understood the new rule to follow: make friends with everyone and maintain every single friendship.  

I began my quest cautiously, sticking to people who were somewhat familiar and in safe places. Girl Scouts in my troop? Two dozen new best friends.  Classmates? Yep, every kid I didn't already know.  Kids on the bus? They were stuck with me coming and going. Neighborhood kids?  If I didn't meet them on the bus ride, I met them at the pool, on a bicycle ride, or through other friends.  

By the time I started high school, I had the "making new friends" thing down to a science.  Comfortable in my world, cheerful and chatty, I zeroed in on unsuspecting targets.  However, my dad's reassignment to Hawaii in the middle of freshman year sent my world into a spiral.  What was I going to do without all of my friends?  

I vowed to make new friends, and never forget the old, 

But the song didn't say anything about me being bold. 

Thrust into an environment where I knew absolutely no one and didn't understand the culture, I cowered and clammed up.  While a few students invited me into their social circle, it wasn't the same.  After a few weeks, I realized if I wanted more friends, I was going to have to be the one to initiate the friendship.  So I bravely went full-on extrovert. 

After high school graduation, we moved back to the East Coast.  I entered adulthood—and the workforce—alone.  Thankfully, I did make friends in the workplace and in my community.  

Again I made new friends, just as I was told,

Only to discover not all adult friends are silver or gold.  

Over the years, I've encountered all kinds of friends.  Most good, some bad, and a few ugly.  There were the plastic friends, those who pretended to be a friend.  The rusty friends, corrosive with the intent to destroy.  Some were salty, and unhappy about everything.  Some were tiring, never satisfied, and always demanding.  Some stepped on me on their way up the career ladder.  Some blew out my candle.  Some betrayed me.  Some disappointed me.  And some sucked the life out of me.  Yet, I continued to be a faithful friend and tried to please them; I truly hoped I'd make their day better.  When a career move took me in a new direction, those one-sided friendships eventually dissolved.  

And now that I've retired, I'm in yet another season—a season of basking in the sunshine of friendships that have stood the test of time.  Some friendships were formed in childhood, others forged in hard times.  These are the friends who walked with me in the valley.  Slogged with me through the muck and mire.  Celebrated with me on the mountaintop.  The friends who laugh with me.  Cry with me. Pray for me. Friends who speak the truth and challenge me to be a better version of myself.  Friends who are faithful and true. 

So, it ends up that the sweet little song I learned long ago is true… 

I've made new friends, and I've kept the old, 

Indeed, they are precious, both silver and gold. 

A friend loves at all times —Proverbs 17:17