Friendship tent poles
I recently had a phone conversation with a good friend that did not go as planned. I was in the midst of a tough week, and we were discussing what was going on. As we talked, I mentally stumbled mid-conversation when I realized that our perceptions of these events and our developing opinions did not match up. The remainder of the conversation felt like an awkward dance as we both attempted to find firm footing again. In the end, we “agreed to disagree” and said goodbye as the friends we always have been. And yet, I ruminated on this conversation for days. On many levels, I still am. Why did this conversation bother me so much? What was I expecting? What did I want?
Upon reflection, I realized that what I had wanted and expected was blind friendship loyalty. I didn’t want to “agree to disagree,” I wanted to “agree to agree - on everything.” When that didn’t happen, I felt a low level of betrayal begin to churn in my gut, a personal tendency that I have to fight off more often than I care to admit. It’s not like I haven’t disagreed with friends before, but during this especially tender time, this disagreement felt more like a dagger stab than a gentle poke. I hated feeling this way, but I couldn’t seem to move forward.
I tried to work out my feelings, primarily by sitting in the corner of my couch, wrapped in a blanket, and reading a novel that could at least temporarily mentally take me away from my problems. A few chapters in, I read a page about a team of people putting up a circus tent. The author masterfully described the men hoisting up the giant, heavy center pole that carried the majority of the weight of the tent itself. Only after that central pole was up and secure could they begin to prop up the dozens of smaller poles that held up the perimeter of the tent. Something about that description cut through my dark, foggy feelings and struck a nerve.
This tent was my friendship. Propped up by years of shared experiences, conversations, and shared values, it usually stands strong, secure, and solid, with a happy little flag dancing in the wind on top. But in our disagreement, one of the poles had been knocked loose and now lay on the ground, broken. The question was, was it one of the dozens of side poles, or one of the center, main poles? That distinction would be the difference between a bit of sag in one section of the tent or a complete, catastrophic collapse.
It’s not always easy to figure out what kind of tent pole that value, opinion, or action represents in a friendship. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, a disagreement can feel like the center pole has completely shattered and caused the entire tent to catch on fire. With a bit of time, a little healing, and a lot of grace, you find that actually, the tent is still standing, and it was just a side pole that needs to be repaired. Other times, the break of what feels like an inconsequential side pole, in its falling, causes several more poles to fall behind it. What started as a minor sag in one small section becomes an entire tent wall falling in and increased strain on the whole structure.
“What kind of pole is this disagreement?” I have been asking myself every day since. I hate friendship tension, yet it’s inevitable when you vulnerably share your life with other people. As great as blind loyalty sounds, we need friends who will share their honest opinions with us, even when they don’t match up with ours. The ensuing battle is not with those friends who think or feel differently than we do; it is within ourselves as we decide what to do next and what kind of tent pole you will determine that disagreement represents.
I have decided that this difference of opinion, no matter how uncomfortable it makes me, is a side pole. Only time will tell if the loss of that pole creates a weak spot that affects other poles and other aspects of our friendship. In addition, I know it will take time for the friendship wound I feel to heal, even if it was caused unintentionally by my friend and exasperated by my unrealistic friendship expectations. In the meantime, while I wait to see what God and time reveal, I have made this plan: I’m going to add as many new poles to this tent as possible. In my discomfort, I refuse to retreat from this friendship or isolate myself and stew. I am going to move forward, interacting with and connecting with this friend just as often as I always have. Each time we talk, laugh together, and bond in reflection over a shared experience, a new pole is erected, or an old one is reinforced. I want this friendship tent to withstand the storms of life and, while it may have to be repaired or readjusted occasionally, last for decades to come.
