A Friendship’s Winter Chill

by Suzanne Woods Fisher @suzannewfisher

I was wandering through Costco the other day when I spotted an old friend. She was hurrying down the aisle, moving away from me, and I had this odd feeling she’d seen me first and didn’t want to get caught in a conversation. My first thought was, “Hey! That’s my trick to avoid talkers!” My second thought was, “Wow, what has happened to our friendship?”

Years ago, we were super close—like, “emergency contact for each other’s kids” kind-of-close. We even celebrated holidays together. It had been a lovely friendship for several years—or so I thought.

Then my husband’s job took us out of state for four years. Even though this friend and I stayed in touch, when we finally moved back to the same area, that friendship never seemed to rekindle. Despite a lot of effort on my part, it felt like something had grown cold. Losing this friendship nagged at me, like a persistent toothache. Friendships are vital to our happiness and well-being, but they can also be tricky. Complicated.

As I worked on A Year of Flowers, the themes of friendships and flowers kept intertwining. In these novellas, Jaime, Tessa, and Claire—three inseparable teenagers—were given a rare gift. Under the guidance of an older woman named Rose, they not only mastered the art of floral design, they also cultivated deep, meaningful friendships. Until one scorching August day, when a series of misunderstandings unraveled everything. The bonds they cherished shattered, and their relationship with Rose was lost too.

Have you ever had a friendship fall apart? Or found yourself baffled by a relationship that didn’t turn out the way you hoped? Maybe, like Jaime, Claire, and Tessa, you’ve felt the sting of disappointment when a friend let you down. Just like the seasons, friendships have their own cycles. Some are in a season of fresh planting, where new connections are sprouting and foundations are being laid. Others might be in full bloom, rich with shared memories and deepening bonds. Some are in a season of harvest, where the fruits of time and care are fully enjoyed. And then there are those that fizzle out, not enduring as we’d hoped. Friendships grow, thrive, change, and, sometimes, go dormant.

After that Costco moment, I was up in my garden, and as I worked, I prayed about the lost friendship. “What more should I do about this, Lord?”

Pruning.

That word suddenly pressed on my heart.

I had pruning shears in my hand. This friendship, I sensed the Lord saying, had been pruned. There was no one to blame. This friend had been pruned from my life, and I had been pruned from hers. It was just the way it was.

I sat back on my heels, a little stunned, but also a little relieved. Released from a vague but nagging guilt that it was my fault our friendship hadn’t continued.

I know enough about gardening to understand how beneficial pruning can be for a plant or tree. More than just beneficial—it’s essential. Good pruning encourages a healthier plant. It allows more sunlight and air. It redirects the plant’s energy for new growth.

Looking back, it dawned on me that because I couldn’t rely on this former friendship after returning from living overseas, I developed new friendships. Two acquaintances, in particular, have become very close friends. I’ve branched out in unexpected ways. Fruit has come from those new areas.

And I’m sure the same is true for my old friend. I wish her well.

Suzanne Woods Fisher is a bestselling author, Christy finalist, Carol and Selah winner, and two-time ECPA Book of the Year finalist, with over forty books to her name. She writes Amish romance, women’s fiction, and historical novels. Suzanne lives in California with her husband, where life (and friends) inspire her stories. Visit her on her website.