Buddies Make Movie Tickets

Buddies do things together.

They make tree forts, play basketball, and go swimming in the river.

Buddies help each other, too.

They pull out splinters, fix bike chains, and make movie tickets for each other when their parents are too busy to take them to the real thing.

But when buddies grow up, they become “friends.”

While the term of endearment may change, the need for their nearness doesn’t. Tree forts become cook outs and bike chains become marriage advice. If anything, we need our buddies even more as adults than we did as children.

God never intended us to be solely self-dependent or self-reliant. Nor was our birth family alone supposed to be the end-all solution for companionship; it’s interesting that Jesus himself is alluded to as a “friend” that’s superior in calibre to that of a birth brother (Prov. 18:24).

While I have positive occasional contact with my childhood buddies, most of the men in my life today are products of providence and of choice cultivated over the last ten years or so.

And I am very blessed indeed. We’ve traded peanut butter and jelly for dinning room entrees, BMX bikes for minivans, and Ataris for iPhones. But the genuine care for one another’s health and wellbeing hasn’t changed at all.

Maybe it’s just stronger.

To all the men close to me today: thanks for being my pals. I couldn’t do this without you. Nor would I want to.

If there are buddies in your world who’ve helped you navigate and enjoy the waters of life, make sure to thank them this week. I’m sure you’ll find they’re just as grateful.

Who knows; maybe they’ll even do a real movie with you just for fun. ch:

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Our First Game of Catch

Yesterday I had a Daddy date with Luik. I remember such outings with my own father very fondly.

But today’s was special because he got his first baseball glove.

I only ever played one season of Babe Ruth Baseball growing up. Spent it in right field, when I did get off the bench. But I’ll never forget countless games of catch in the front yard with my Daddy.

I could care less if he plays a single season, I just like looking in his face and throwing a ball together.

I’d love to hear about one of your parent-related memories growing up. ch:

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