“You can’t go back and change the ending, but you can begin where you are and change the ending.”  Teddy

“Jonathan committed himself to David, and David loved him as himself.” 1 Samuel 18:1

Who do you love?  And who loves you? 

Pertinent questions as we approach St. Valentine’s Day.  Most likely we are inclined to answer such questions in terms of spouses, partners, romantic interests, children, parents, or perhaps God, if we are quite pious. This week my answer would be Teddy.

The week began by having one of “those Mondays.”  The kind where you wake up and all seems wrong, not right, with the world.  Sunday had been a wonderful day, which is why I was surprised to wake up on Monday with an overwhelming feeling of melancholy. I felt as if a fine Scotland mist had settled over me.  I didn’t want to go to work.  I Didn’t want to exercise. I  Didn’t even want to pray.  I wanted someone to talk to.  So, I called my old friend Teddy.

Teddy and I first met in the eighth grade.  His family had bought a dairy farm just outside of Sheldon, Wisconsin.  I remember seeing him that first day of school, wondering about this new blonde-haired boy in a slightly too large body.  He was introduced as having come from Indiana.  Could anything good come from Indiana—except basketball players?  If it could then possibly, just possibly, we might become friends. We did.  Teddy and I quickly became best friends. In fact, we became almost inseparable.

Though our houses were seven miles apart, our parents made a it a point to make sure that we spent time together.  Some days after school one of us would go home with the other and have a sleepover.  Most Saturdays were spent either on his farm helping with chores, swimming in the nearby river, or driving his John Deere tractor the two miles into town to buy candy, gum, and soda, or at my house wandering through the woods, playing baseball in the field across the road, or basketball with the Brost boys.

That eighth-grade year went by fast, and we started high school together.  We were still the best of friends, and as is typical of high school boys, found all sorts of mischief to get into. Teddy had acquired a light blue VW bug even before he had a license.  We’d drive it illegally on back roads, with the rock group Boston blaring from an eight-track tape player.  Sometimes we even managed to squirrel away a few cans of beer in the backseat.  It was delightfully delinquent.

The four years in high school went fast.  We played sports together, hunted small game and white-tail deer, and pursued girls.  Teddy caught his.  Pam was his high school sweetheart and they spent a lot of time together.  Sometimes I resented her.  Nonetheless, Teddy and I had forged a bond that couldn’t be broken.  Even after graduation when the promises made in the spirit of “Grease” to always stay together are broken, Teddy and I remained connected. 

Teddy stayed close to home, eventually becoming a teacher, a highly successful  girls basketball coach, a farmer, and a small business owner.  I left Wisconsin to experience the world.  But whenever I went back to Wisconsin I would visit Teddy.  Like putting on an old shoe, we would comfortably fall right back into our old ways, taking drives, drinking beer, and having deep conversations. 

Those talks weren’t the type described by Bruce Springsteen in the song “Glory Days.”  Yes, we would occasionally reminisce about our past, but for the most part we were very present with one another, mining meaningful topics and counseling one another with topics that mattered in our present lives. 

Teddy is my Jonathon.  I would trust him with my life, or with the life of anyone I loved.  And that is why on Monday morning I called Teddy. We talked about what was bothering me.  You know, I can’t even recall what it was.  And we talked about what was bothering him.  Though we may have offered insights, we didn’t have solutions or even try to provide them.  We just talked to one another.  And listened.  And it was comfortable and comforting.

When I hung up the phone I felt better.  Even more, I felt blessed that God had given me a Jonathan with whom I would walk along The Way.  Always.

I wonder, dear reader, who is your Jonathan?  Who is walking with you?  Who do you love as yourself?

Happy Valentine’s Day.