I hung up the phone, a huge weight hanging around my neck. A close friend expected me to be somewhere at a certain time for a gathering, and I was going to be very late. “Well don’t you care about being with me?” she asked. The underlying accusation that I didn’t care about being with her was tangible in the air. “Yes, I do care, and that is why I will be there with you at 4 pm.” As we hung up the phone, my happy-go-lucky spirit slowly sank into a deep funk.
In the never-ending battle of trying to please others, once again, I was a disappointment.
I sat there crying in a large parking lot. Cars buzzed around me and in my embarrassment I prayed that they would not park beside me and see my tears. My soul was in great anguish and I was praying fervently, “God, what should I do now?” The answer could make or break a friendship.
I was in a text message battle with one of my pastors.
The sea of faces flashed before me. Old faces, young faces. Black faces, white faces, Hispanic, and Asian faces. Male and female. Adults and teens. Some I knew well, some I didn’t know at all. Some had been faithful friends. Some had deserted me. And some had turned on me and stabbed me in the back.
They were all potential Facebook “Friends.”