I lost you today.
There was no argument, no big scene, no hatred spewed.
The bond between us was stretched to its absolute limit, and without a word you gave it a final tug.
I'm left with a long and tattered piece of fabric. It spans a quarter of a century. It has been immersed in tears, laughter, sadness, anger, forgiveness, support, and love.
It withstood great distances and life traumas, always able to bounce back.
But somewhere along the way, the fabric began to change, as did the people on either end.
I willingly admit I have changed. I'm not the person I once was.
I strongly believe the person I once chose to be was drowning in judgment and lacking love for her fellow man.
I have embraced parts of myself I was once ashamed to have, and I have offered no apologies in the process. I have let go of the labels and titles that once garnered security and friendship.
I knew I would experience loss in both those areas, I was willing to accept it, and I was prepared for the backlash.
I wasn't prepared to lose you. What I once attributed to confusion and misunderstanding I now understand was harsh and unfair judgement.
I choose to forgive and move on, this letter is part of that process. But this is what I ask you:
You expressed to me multiple times you were concerned over my heart, and where I stand with God.
If you truly believe my soul is teetering on the fence of eternity, which way have your current actions tilted it?
Have your actions exhibited the love Jesus wants us to show mankind?
Have your actions shown the grace you so readily accept from God?
Is your soul so precious, you can't risk reaching out to one you clearly see as lost?
But most importantly, have I meant so little to you that you are able to leave me without so much as a backwards glance?
I have always chosen to love and accept you for who you are, even when we don't agree on a matter. I respect your right to pursue who you believe is the best version of yourself.
But speaking as a former friend, who has been familiar with every version of yourself you have experienced, I'm saying this isn't the best you. You are more.
If my life has taught me anything, it's how to deal with loss.
So I'm walking away from the tattered, threadbare fabric of what was once a beautiful friendship.
