Is it right that old times be forgotten? That’s what the interpretation of the song “Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot?” would mean in today’s language.
The lyrics were penned way back in the day by Robert Burns. He was commiserating over an old friendship and wondering if the past and the memories made would be forgotten as people went their separate ways. Later, parts of the song were used in what is traditionally a song that many sing at the stroke of the midnight hour as the old year ends and a new one begins. "For auld lang syne" could even be loosely translated as "for (the sake of) old times."
During the late hours of the night and in between the wee hours of the morning, I often find myself wide awake. Last night was one of those times. Without going into a lot of detail, suffice it so say that Facebook was my companion and I spent several hours perusing its records of old friends, classmates, and folks I have known for a while. I checked out so many pictures that I hadn’t taken time earlier to enjoy, read some of Greg’s funny statuses, learned about grandkids, trips, and weather events. And then I noticed some things that I wasn’t seeing: pictures and recollections of certain couples. Where were the comments and notes, the Christmas Card to the world?
Earlier I had been reading of a woman in my county who had lost her husband recently through the carelessness of a drunk driver and her words pierced my heart as she shared her grief over the loss of this man who was so vital to so many. It reminded me of a once-great friend who too has lost her husband much earlier than expected--for come on, who of us really thinks that “happily-ever-after” has such a short time limit imposed on it?
As I read the widow’s (wow: what an ugly word for one so young!) words about dealing with the day in and day out occurrences that she was facing, my heart just ached. For you see, not only was she left behind: her kids--their kids!!--and their family and their neighbors and their church also had to deal with this grief. He was a pastor and she was his wife. She posed the question what was she to do with herself because her role in life had unexpectedly ended, for how does one be a pastor’s wife when the pastor is no longer in the picture? Why this additional loss? What about her missions, her dreams, her calling to be by his side and fulfill these obligations of today when she took those vows to stand by her man all those years ago? Who was she now that he was not there to partner with her?
Ironically, as I soon discovered in my Facebook readings, another friend, an old acquaintance, a woman whom I once loved and admired and just about idolized during my teen years was facing the same challenge, although not due to death. The details were and are sketchy but from what I saw, she is handling the situation with grace, with dignity, and with the much-necessary comfort of our Great God. “Should I reach out to her” I asked myself. “What would I want should the position be reversed: someone I barely knew anymore to be sticking her nose in my business or an old acquaintance, an old buddy and sometimes pal to remind me that those friendships from long long ago that were based on simplicity, honesty, and innocence could still have an effect to touch a soul?”
I bit the bullet and sent her a note. I was so scared that it would be taken the wrong way because so many times when I reach out to someone that’s what happens. My efforts fall short or my motives are misinterpreted. Did I mention how much I once loved this girl? That was the final push, the lead in my gasoline. Even though during my times of heartbreak and loss she didn’t once reach out to me, is that what really mattered? No. Love-- friendship-- isn’t a 50/50 proposition. It doesn’t keep score. It doesn’t rely on constant communication to be there. It is ready to help when the need of the other may be a silent cry that many have ignored. It is the jump-in-blindly-with-an-attempt-to-deflect some of that hurt that has been thrust on someone I used to would have fought anyone who messed with her over.
Old acquaintances. Forgotten friends. Let’s not neglect them, let’s not pretend that we don’t see, don’t hear, don’t know of the pain they are suffering. I could reach out to the woman in my town who lost her best friend, lover, and father to her children but...but there’s no connection there. Yes, I hurt for her but this old friend from my hometown? I hurt with her. Her pain is mine. We once shared similar dreams, sang songs together, fretted over tests, boys, and wondered if our athletic prowess would be enough to bring victory to our schools. We rode busses together, drank Dr. Peppers, and squeezed each other’s hands as we waited to see if we would be in the top ten ranking in class so that we could represent our school as marshals for the last Eighth Grade Class of Clearmont Elementary School.
Is it right that old times be forgotten? Sometimes. Often, because truthfully, some trips down Memory Lane are best left untraveled. But this time? No. I reached out and she responded. It was worth the risk.
While none of us know what tomorrow holds nor who will be by our sides as we explore it, I do know that love never fails. This day my hope is that you too will do it afraid, that you will love without reserve, and that that old friend (and the new ones as well) who once held a bigger piece of your heart than she might now--well, my hope is that your heart still has some room for her. For auld lang syne, my dears. For auld lang syne.
