I have friends in Georgia

Thirteen years ago, I received a phone call telling me that my family had been in an accident.

Shannon and the kids were hit head on at fifty-five mph by a girl trying to retrieve a CD on her passenger side floor.

The kids were taken to Grady hospital while Shannon was taken to Atlanta Medical Center. I went to check on the kids first since they were alone while Shannon’s parents went to see her.

I found Nicole in a room with a broken ankle and a scratch on her liver, but otherwise ok. Winston was in a hallway, naked on a gurney, in a cervical collar. He was in good shape with no apparent injuries.

I left them in the care of the hospital staff and went to see Shannon. When I entered the lobby of the hospital, I was met by dozens of people. Friends of ours from the church who, upon hearing the news, drove the thirty miles to be with our family.

Of course, they all offered help and assistance, but at that point we wouldn’t know what we would need.

They had already met one need. They were there.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but simply showing up was of great comfort to us. Eleven years ago, we moved from Georgia back to Michigan to start the church here. The move distanced us from many of those good friends. Our feelings for them are as strong, if not stronger than they were when we were able to see them every day. I am grateful for social media that allows us to keep in touch with many of them to some degree.

Our lives today tend to move us around the country. Friendships that develop are hampered by distance. But just because we may find ourselves somewhere else geographically, doesn’t mean we should leave behind those who have cared for us in earlier times.

Never forget those who loved you in your old neighborhood.