Deep friendships add light to one’s soul even in difficult and dark times. Those special people with whom we share our journey offer a safe place to rest, finding a space in their hearts for our struggles and sorrow as well as our dreams and joy. They celebrate with us. (Something I suggest we do as often as possible and for every little thing.) They accompany us as we grieve. As we process what life is handing us. Or ponder big questions along with the mundane: weather, books read, or what to cook for dinner. They share hard-won wisdom. No topic is taboo. These friends may cry with us or tap laughter hiding beneath our tears. They may simply “be with” us when there are no words to say or when neither of us can see a path opening ahead.
Such companions have blessed me. I hope the same for you. The pandemic may have complicated personal connections, but bonds with deep friends are resilient and remain.
Mike was such a friend. He passed away in February of this year. Our final in-person visit was last year in late June. We shared lunch, and appropriately, guitar playing and song.
Music and desire for community brought us together when I was around 17. A small group of people, most in their late 20s and early 30s, were gathering to explore their faith and how to live it out during the years that saw the Vietnam war, the growing civil rights movement, and social upheaval. The friends came together to support one another and celebrate life with singalongs, potlucks, and conversations that lasted late into the night. Invited by a mutual friend, I brought my guitar and joined Mike and others providing music.
We gathered in homes and in a member’s shoe store – after hours. Eventually the folks pooled money and purchased a small property nestled along the fringes of the Hocking Hills. It was named Koinia and became their gathering place and a refuge for those of us seeking solitude and nature’s balm.
My life and Mike’s intertwined beyond the small group. We sang in coffee houses, at weddings, and liturgical celebrations. We saw one another at holiday parties and birthday bashes for mutual friends. Years flipped by like pages of a riveting novel.
Life took us in different directions, and opportunities to connect became fewer though we offered support as we could, especially during difficult times. Hearing Mike’s voice and music and meeting his compassionate gaze was a great comfort when he sang at the funerals of both of my parents. No matter how much time passed between our visits, when we did reconnect, conversation flowed as easily as ever.
Four years ago, Mike inspired me with a story of struggle and forgiveness. I had been working alone in a small cabin near Mike and Patty’s home. Preparing to co-direct a retreat, I needed the quiet, away-from-everything space. A few days before, a longtime mutual friend, Mario, had died. On the funeral day, I drove into town, picked up Mike and his wife, Patty, and took them with me to the funeral. People gathered afterwards to share memories and food. When things quieted down, I returned Mike and Patty back to their home then stopped at a nearby convenience store to buy drinking water for the cabin.
On my way out of town, grief settled in as profound loneliness, and I wasn’t ready to return to the empty cabin. I sat in my car on the edge of a park. And sat. Finally, I called Mike and invited myself to dinner. He and Patty warmly welcomed me and shared more food, laughter, and stories. Their company bolstered my spirits, and as night approached, I headed back to the cabin. Providence had other ideas. A fallen tree blocked the final stretch of road, and unfamiliar with an alternative route through the hills to the cabin, I called Mike again.
Patty had the guest room ready when I arrived, complete with an extra nightgown laying on the bed. We visited until 11 when she said goodnight. Mike and I stayed up for a couple more hours and sang a song or two. Then just talked. As conversations go, ours meandered from Mario to grief at his passing to times at Koinia. Perhaps led by our sorrow, we eventually talked of struggles with past hurtful experiences. Mike shared a particularly difficult episode. Then matter-of-factly said, “I forgave them.”
After a quiet pause he continued. “I had to let it go. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.” I watched him. One of the kindest, gentlest, loving souls I have ever known. “I had to move on. And you know, it hasn’t been a once-and-done thing. As time went by, memories came back. Occasionally still do. I felt hurt and betrayed all over again. And angry. Each time, I forgave. It got easier.”
We sat in silence for a while. I watched him and tried to imagine him different. Bitter. Cold. Nursing a wound that wouldn’t heal. I was grateful Mike had chosen forgiveness all these years. That his life, like his songs, was full of kindness and hope.
I shared something with Mike that night. Something I hadn’t forgiven. Not completely. Not every time it resurfaced. Not easily.
What is it about old wounds that make hanging on to them feel deceptively comforting? Is it that dwelling on someone else’s shortcomings shields one from their own? Is it self-doubt? Does pulling someone else down make one feel better about themself? Oddly attractive, hanging on to hurts gives power to those who hurt us. Power that can affect one’s life long after the event. Lack of forgiveness can poison a personality. Mike knew that and refused to let it happen.
I took a deep breath. I forgave. I knew I’d have to make that choice again and again. But I could. I would. Remembering Mike will help.
Maybe the 70 times 7 has many meanings, not only for new betrayals but the same one, unforgiven, try again, unforgiven, try again, unforgiven. Forgive.
Mary, thanks so much for writing. What insight into meanings of 70 times 7. It’s good to hear from you!
Mike and Patty were dear friends…Patty and I grew up together and stayed in touch over the years. I have many pleasant memories of slumber parties at the home of Patty growing up !
Thank you for sharing this with us !
Mary Ellen
You’re welcome, Mary Ellen. Mike and Patty were both wonderful people – gifts to many!
Thank you Mary for exploring the cycle of personal hurt and forgiveness that we all experience but seldom recognize. Mike was a shining example of a beautiful soul that I will miss for the rest of my days.
You’re welcome, Nick. Yes, Mike was a graceful presence on this earth who blessed so many of us with his kindness and good heart (not to mention his amazing Irish tenor voice!). What wonderful memories we have. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
A beautiful memory of a beautiful friendship. This teaching of forgiveness is vital to any of us. I have been walking the John ‘Groats trail in Northern Scotland and have had a lot of time to reflect. One reflection that came to me was of my mother with whom I did not have a close relationship, but I began to ponder how I could forgive her. I believe I have now done so.
Thanks for writing, Olga. What a grace your walk and time of reflection have been. The lesson of forgiveness is, as you say, vital to all of us.
I have never before truly heard that the 70 times can be about the same memory. I need to learn to repeat… Bless you
I hadn’t thought of applying the 70 time 7 to re-forgiving either. Thanks to Mary Taylor!
What a tribute, Mary. Those early days we all experienced helped shape our futures. I don’t think any of us have given up on striving to create a world of peace.
Mike was a true person of peace. His music will continue to feed us.
You are so right, Jim. We cannot give up on striving to create a peaceful world. Mike’s life and songs were witness to that. As you say, His music will live on to inspire those who know it. Thanks for writing, friend on the journey.
Mary,
So so beautiful. Thank you for sharing. You are a gift to us all.
Susan Myers
Thank you for writing, Susan. I’m glad the piece found a place in your heart.
beautiful memory of your dear friend and gratitude for sharing here his wisdom on the hard work of forgiveness. I didn’t know you were a musician as well as a writer Mary! You are a woman of many gifts and talents. Thank you for sharing this story.
You’re welcome, Kathy. Truly, Mike had wisdom to share. He often did in the songs he wrote and sang as well as great conversations. It’s gift to be able to share his story.
I cried my way through that this morning. Thank you, Mary, for reminding us about the power of forgiveness.
What an exceptional man was Mike Wood, tender and gentle beyond words. Our souls were deep, loving friends, and I am better for having known him.
You’re welcome, Anne. Thanks for writing. You are so right: Mike Wood was an exceptional man. The world is a better place for his being here.
Thank you for this beautiful reflection, dear Mary. It led me to reflect on my own soul-sister-friend, Peg. So many times the beauty of our friendship has gotten me through moments that I would have shared with her before she died. Her wisdom still comes through and I find myself deeply grateful for all that we shared, and continue to share even now, 5 years after she died. That kind of connection is never broken. No doubt you and Mike and Mario will remain good friends, albeit in a different way, into eternal life.
You’re welcome, Anita. What a wonderful testament to your friend and the power of friendships that endure, bestowing their grace even after separated by death. Thank you for sharing.
Lots of wisdom here, e.g.that remembering hurts gives power to those that hurt us and doesn’t free us from the hurts.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Wilfred.
Mary, thank you for sharing this. I am very sorry for your lose of such a wonderful friend. He was right, and like you I get how forgiveness is essential for “moving on.” And like you I forgive and forgive because, drat! That ugly beast returns now and again. Forgiveness heals, mind and soul and then our bodies. Mike! Mike! Mike! Love you, Mary.
Thank you, Carol. You and Mike are right: forgiveness heals!
Oh Mary K, thank you for sharing these memories of my parents. Recalling how compassionate my dad was and how welcoming my mom was put a smile on my face. You were all very blessed to have each other, the wonderful friends of Koinia and the talented musician friends and families. Mom & Dad thought the world of you!
P.S. I also really appreciate the packet you sent me including even more stories with Dad and a copy of this article. I will cherish it and share with my kids.
Peace & Love.
Your parents were special people, Amy. I’m so glad my reflections brought a smile to your face. We will miss them this Christmas! Thanks for writing. I’ll be thinking of you all over the holidays.
Mary….since Patty’s death, then Mike’s, i often shake my head and say I cannot believe Mike and Patty are gone. They are two of the dearest and honest people I have known. Like others have written, I will never forget them and always miss them. Thanks for your beautiful writing..
Yes, they were both warm and wonderful people, kind to all who were lucky to be part of their lives. Thanks for sharing, Georgia.