From the large front window of the Cayucos beach house, we watched unusually large waves surge and crash before a strong wind along Morro Bay on October 29, 2015. My four bridesmaids and I gathered at this little California paradise for our first reunion after forty-six years—five Pacific College friends born in 1948 and three of us, originally from Canada, with consecutive birthdays in September. How many storms and waves roll through forty-six years? What happens to five young, idealistic, anticipatory, optimistic, and vivacious college friends over time? How often do friends gather for the first time after so many years to catch up on all the years they missed?

College put us all “in the same boat”—a microcosm with a life of its own. We went to the same classes, ate the same cafeteria food, slept in the same dorms, studied together, laughed and cried together. We all fell in and out of “love” and shared joys, losses, and laughter. By the time we all graduated, two of us had married our college sweethearts, another married soon afterward, and two others launched careers before marriage. Within a few more years, three of us started our families. In time. . . all of us drifted apart, each paddling our own canoe on divinely charted seas. Four remained in California and crossed paths from time to time. My gypsy ministry life-style isolated me from my friends as I moved around the Pacific Northwest, Canada, Alaska, and back to Washington.

We missed sharing the joys and challenges of motherhood, watching our babies grow up, living with teenagers, and celebrating their successes. We missed sharing our career accomplishments, struggles, and heartaches. We all moved in and out of other people’s lives and built new relationships. Our students moved on and we retired. Our children grew up, left the nest, and we became grandparents.

One day, after so many years and events passed by, three of us amazingly reconnected on Facebook. When I looked through old photographs, remembered, and posted college memories, I realized those college years were the best relational days of my life. I also realized that I actually had a life before I married, had children, or grandchildren. Those wonderful blessings demanded so much of my time, attention, and energy that my early years drifted into the archives of distant memories—a forgotten life. Not that I didn’t have a life later, but not one of my children or seventeen grandchildren even existed when I went horseback riding, engaged in drama and musical performances, went on choir tours or sang my way through Europe with a concert choir.

But that was only my life. Five stories played out over all those years. Five women paddled five different canoes and came back together after forty-six years to reconnect, remember, and revive relationships. We hugged, laughed, reminisced, cried, remembered, shared our stories and our hearts. We listened, ate, shopped, took pictures, looked at pictures, thanked God, and offered words of encouragement and endearment.

We noted obvious physical changes, which you can imagine, but probably shouldn’t try. Arthritis, fibromyalgia, migraines, tremors, allergies, food intolerances, hearing loss, and general body aches and pains mocked youth’s deception that life goes on forever. However, we had enough motivation and energy to go shopping around Morrow Bay. We missed our naps and stayed up until midnight both nights, but arose to greet the morning with smiles and hugs.

What drew us back together after so many years? Why was it worth the travel and expense and time in our still active lives? Maybe because we could still remember a time in life before we aged, before the disillusionments and heartaches and losses and disappointments. Maybe we wanted to activate our selective memories of those college days without the pressure of papers due, late study hours, and cramming for tests. Maybe we could meet and just remember what it was like to be together as friends—young, innocent, naive, immature, idealistic. Maybe we could re-enter the time before our ideals and dreams were broken—and still giggle over so many silly things. Maybe we could somehow catch up on the years we missed of each others lives and stories.

Our reunion came just three years before we all turn seventy. Over time we all grew and learned and matured through the storms and crashing waves of life. Each of us tasted grief, loss, heartache, pain, and sadness, as well as joy, victory, redemption, healing, and acceptance. We didn’t walk on the beach together, but for those three days we covered a life-time—the peak of youth to post retirement. I missed the sunset on our last evening because we still were so busy talking over dinner at Taco Temple when the sun sent its last glorious beams over the bay. However, I did not miss the proverbial sunset with a glory that comes when we still celebrate one another after a life-time.

We lingered longer than planned when it came time to leave. We hugged goodbye. Tears of joy filled my heart and I felt renewed, loved, valued, and glad. When we first planned our reunion, our emails reflected the insecurities of not quite measuring up—desires to lose weight before seeing one another, choosing the “right” and most flattering clothing to pack. We actually discussed bringing swim suits before one e-mailed, “Please don’t!” and we could laugh because we knew. . . . After hours of sharing our hearts with one another, those anxieties dissipated and outward appearance and performance simply didn’t matter. We each felt loved and appreciated for who we are and for who we are not.

God made us for relationship. When all else is stripped away—health, strength, youth, appearances, success, achievement, ambition, talents, and even motivation, what is left? Only God, His Word, and people are eternal. How important then, in this temporary life, to spend our time, energy, and resources to cultivate that which lasts! When we come to the end of the day and the sun begins to set, when all is said and done …these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love. 1 Cor. 13:13

As for growing old. . . well, there also remains sweet and enduring encouragement: Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Cor. 4:16-18

Thank you, my dearest friends, for all you did to make our weekend together all that it could be, more than I could even have imagined! You are my treasures. . . forever!