One summer during middle school when my mother was looking for ways to keep me occupied, she signed me up for a math enrichment class at Loyola Blakefield. The class was full of boys who all seemed to know one another. As I recall, there were only two girls in the class. You might think that we would have formed a fast friendship, but we were both just a little bit shy.
Every day, when my mother picked me up, she would ask whether I had talked to the other girl. She happened to live two blocks from us, delivered our newspaper, and my mother was familiar with her family. She was sure we would be friends if we just managed to talk to each other.
But my stubborn, shy middle school self had no plans to open that door – and certainly not just because my mother thought the two of us would get along. Every day after the class, all the students sat waiting for our rides to arrive. The boys all laughed and chatted together. The other girl and I sat separately, quietly waiting, never exchanging even a smile.
That all changed on the last day of the session. We happened to be sitting near each other, and a dog ran over to say hello. I don’t know whose dog it was or why it was there, but immediately we were off the bench and on the ground, petting and playing with the dog – and smiling and chatting with each other.
As it turned out, this girl and I had so much in common – a neighborhood, our large families, a math class we both took during our summer vacation and mothers who had been nudging us to talk to each other – but it took a dog to break that ice and bring us together.
We became fast friends. Every morning one of us would call the other, and we would pick a time to meet. We would spend the day together, kicking pebbles as we explored the neighborhood, walking to the convenience store for ice cream or slushies, playing cards in the coolness of the basement, and just being together. On those long, hot summer days, we never ran out of conversation topics or things to do.
Summer ended, but our friendship stayed strong for years until we grew apart. But I look back on that friendship as one of the most formative of my life. It drew me out of myself, expanded my world, and it helped me mature and grow. At a time in life when friendship can be tricky to navigate, I learned how to be a friend and I learned the power of connecting with someone with a simple greeting.
During the most sheltered days of the pandemic, one of the things I missed the most was interacting with strangers – laughing with the cashier about the number of bags of chips I’m buying, holding the door for a mother carrying a baby at the convenience store or nodding and smiling at familiar faces at church. We might be strangers, but we are all part of the Body of Christ, and our lives are intertwined.
We never know where a simple greeting or a smile might lead or how that might have an impact on someone else.
As we begin a new year, we cannot see what lies ahead. But we know that new beginnings bring new opportunities for us to grow as we continue on our faith journey.
“It is right that you should begin again every day,” said St. Francis de Sales. “There is no better way to complete the spiritual life than to be ever beginning it over again.”
May we view this new beginning as a time to live more fully, love more deeply, and become the people God is calling us to be.
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