Besides, My Arms Aren't All That Heavy

I have been blessed with many good friends. Some of which I have links to their blogs on the right hand side of the screen. I'm friends with quiet people, loud people, intellectual people, funny people, needy people, and stable people. However, there is one friendship that stands apart from the others, and that is my friendship with none other than Charlie Ketchen.
Charlie and I have a special friendship that I will hold onto for the rest of my life. Stopping short of becoming his hit man, there is little I wouldn't do for the guy. I do a pretty crappy job of staying in touch, though, and I would like to do better. But that's just it. I know we'll pick up right where we left off.
Charlie and I met when we were both freshmen in Bible College. There was a "Say-goodbye-to- your-kids-because-they-will-never-be-your-little-boy-again" church service on Sunday morning in the campus chapel, and we were picked at random to help serve communion. So I got paired up with this guy who looked like he stepped out of Farmtown, USA (Francisville, IN), and our duty was to pass the trays from one side of the pew to the other. I had no idea who this kid was, but as the solemn communion music played and parents cried and people prayed, our eyes caught from across the row. Suddenly, we couldn't take it anymore. The laughter was forcing its way out like a cracked dam. There was no reason to laugh, but we did. We did hard. So hard, that our parents suddenly realized that they were dropping us off to meet our doom with one another. That was the beginning.
We have a lot of good memories which usually consisted of us running from whoever was getting us in trouble, but we have other memories as well. We have memories of pain and trial that we had to face alone. There were burdens that we couldn't carry for each other even though we would have if possible. There were broken moments when we would lend listening ears to each other's pain. It was during those times that Charlie reminded me a lot of Moses' friends in Exodus 17.

The Israelites were at war with the Amalekites, and Joshua was leading the charge. However, they received quiet a beating unless Moses, their fearless leader, would raise his arms to the sky. Have you ever seen how long you could go without lowering your arms? It is horribly painful, especially when your arms only weigh .0001 lbs. (which in and of itself is about a tenth of my total body weight). Moses just couldn't keep them up no matter how much he wanted the victory, so that's where Aaron and Hur stepped in. They held his arms for him, so the victory could belong to Yahweh.
That's what Charlie did for me on numerous occasions, and that's what many of my other friends have done as well. I hope that I have done the same for them. Sometimes all they could do was ask, "What can we do for you in this situation?" Even though they didn't know how to help, they did a darn good job of holding up.
We talk so much about being unified in terms of race, politics, generations, styles, and on and on. However, sometimes I forget about unity when it comes to my dearest of friends. I let their arms fall, and I neglect them as a result of taking them for granted. I forget to let them know that they are deeply loved and appreciated as well as the significance and vitality of unity between friends. If we can't be unified with the people we laugh with and consider dear to us, then we can't really be unified with anyone else, can we? That's where it starts.
So friends, I'm here to hold up your arms even if I may be 1/16 of your size, and I appreciate all the times you were there told hold up mine. I'm here, and the unity is deeply appreciated.

To see Charlie--the rock, the arm holder, the hero--click below:
http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=21808553&imageID=794547063&MyToken=6dc7e362-57e1-4efc-b23c-f67a14683a25