Replacing Love

My old friend Frank Stanton unexpectedly stopped by my office because he wanted to tell me goodbye. After 55 years of living and prospering in Savannah, Frank and Clara are returning to their home town of Augusta, Georgia where their children live. The reason is because the ravages of age are starting to add up and they can envision days of much less activity and want to settle with their kids and grand kids in the time that they have left.

As he was telling me these things, his eyes grew moist and he struggled with his words. Leaving Savannah is proving to be very difficult for them. But after two years of contemplating the move, the decision has now been made.

Frank and I go back a hundred years to when he had asked me to speak at his Rotary Club. My first book had recently been published and he asked me to bring copies, so I did and Frank ended up buying one.

"The Society of Salty Saints" tells the story of the rag tag inner city church in Louisville that I had been at. It tells the stories of the people who came and some of the things that we did together. Because I was a professional Christian at the time I threw in a some prayers and a few of my sermons which were different from real preachers (My favorite is "What Jesus did in High School" where we glean that we're not always supposed to listen to our mothers! But I digress.)

So the next afternoon I am sitting in my office at Union Mission and in walks Frank unexpectedly. He had my book in his hands.

"Who wrote this?" he demanded.

"Hi Frank," I replied. "That is my name on the cover."

"Don't give me that," he shot back, "there is no way that you could have possibly written these prayers. I mean look at you!"

In those days my fashion was built upon the Kroeger look. Jeans with a button down shirt and a tie. I also had a pony tail. I guess Frank thought that people who dressed and look like me are incapable of praying.

Anyway, we became good friends and we were partners in crime together, as another dear friend of mine like to say. Our ability to pull off practical jokes on people like Joe Daniel, then at Bank of America, are legend (once had a bunch of homeless people enter into his office one after the other unannounced. They simply stood their staring at him while he asked if he could help them. His secretary was buzzing security. Then they sung him Happy Birthday and left. And that was a pretty tame one!)

Frank also arranged for me to meet people and to go to places that I would have never been able to accomplish by myself. If he would notice that I was working myself into exhaustion, I would be surprised by tickets to some resort with the expenses paid. And he was forever bringing visiting dignitaries by the office to meet me. The man is freaking amazing.

Yet stretching across two decades now, Frank and I have remained friends. Several years ago he asked me to do things when he dies.

All of these things flashed through my mind at one time when I saw his eyes go moist and his words falter as he told me goodbye. I felt my throat close and my heart break a little.

But that is life, right? People come and people go. Relationships begin and they end. Age happens in spite of our best efforts to prevent it from occurring. David Bowie was right. "Ch, Ch, Ch, Changes. Turn and face the strange. Changes."

But the love and the experiences and lessons that Frank and I share will remain. Love never dies, St. Paul says. I think that this is what he meant. We carry these things with us until we die and then those who love us carry us with them.

And when love leaves our lives, we immediately look for it again. Through others. We are forever replacing love with other love. Because in the end, love really is all you need.