Godric: Of Godric, his friends, and Reginald

It is that time of the year when I pull Frederick Buechner's Godric off the shelf, dust it off and dive in to the most profoundly poetic novel Buechner wrote.
"Five friends I had, and two of them snakes," he begins. And quite literally he means snakes. Friendship is, of course, that element of humanity that has the power to stir in us a great depth of loneliness. For at last, even after the most raucous of gatherings, friends must leave. They come and they go, not just in the way we leave a party only to return again another night, but friends are often a backdrop to a particular season in our life.
And what friends they are, when we find ourselves immersed in that season. The truest of friends will linger a bit longer, just like they might at that party; but in the end, eventually, they leave. It is a rare happening to maintain a friendship, an honest, open, friendship much beyond any particular season. It takes a remarkable human being to uplift us in our trials, celebrate in our victories, and finally to forgive us our mistakes.
Very few of us have that capability ourselves, let alone the ability to find that in someone else. But when we do, we must fasten ourselves quickly and tightly, for without it, the world would feel all the more empty.