WHY GOD MADE FRIENDS
BY DONDI VOIGT PERSYN
There is something sacred about the space between old friends—the kind that doesn’t erode with time or distance but instead waits, intact, for the next moment you step into it together. It’s not just familiarity or shared history; it’s deeper than that. It’s the way conversation flows without hesitation, the way laughter comes from a place untouched by years apart. It’s picking up right where you left off, as if no time or space has passed at all. It’s a kind of restoration, a quiet recalibration of the soul.
That’s exactly what happened when my dear friend Denise and I met in Wimberley, Texas. It was not just a destination but a pause in the rush of life, a place where we could simply exist together. Our time there wasn’t about filling the days with plans but about slipping into a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. Wandering through vintage stores, we let our hands pass over old books and worn fabrics, drawn to the stories they carried. We swam in the cold waters of an outdated ‘50s-style pool, the chill shocking and invigorating all at once. We stayed up late, painting, talking, listening, allowing the weight of unspoken thoughts to lift in the presence of someone who truly sees you.
During one of our walks along the river, we spotted a blue heron standing motionless in the shallows, gazing into the mirror of the water but seeing beyond it. It stood still, watching, waiting, knowing. And in that moment, I realized—that is what true friendship is. Some friendships remain at the surface, reflecting back only what is visible, light and easy. But the real ones, the ones that endure, are like the heron. They know when to wait, when to stand steady beside you, and when the time is right, they dive deep. They see past what’s on the surface. They see you.
And I’d like to think that is why God created friends. Not just for companionship, not just for laughter or shared memories, but so that we would know our true worth. So that we would have a sacred space—something separate from the love of partners and family, something that stands outside of obligation. Friendship is its own kind of sanctuary, a place where we are challenged in ways different from romance, where we are seen in ways deeper than the roles we play in daily life. It is the steady presence that reminds us of who we are, even when we forget.
Like the heron, a friend does not rush to fix, nor do they pull us away from our depths. Instead, they stand near—watching, witnessing, reminding. They reflect back to us the person we have always been, but when the moment comes, they go deeper, meeting us there in the places that matter most. There are days filled with words, with stories, with unraveling the complexities of life. But friendship is also in the quiet, in the shared glances, in the knowing that you are safe in the presence of someone who understands you without explanation.
By the time we packed our bags, we carried more than just the small treasures we had collected from local shops. We carried something less tangible but far more valuable—a lightness, a renewed sense of self, a quiet affirmation that we were not walking alone. Because friendship, at its core, is God’s way of reminding us that we are loved. That we are seen. That we are worthy. And that, even in the silent spaces between us, we are never truly alone.
