“Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted up his heel against me.” (Psalm 41:9) What an absolutely devastating experience to endure. In addition to the psalmist, Job clearly knew friendship pain as well, “All my intimate friends abhor me, and those whom I loved have turned against me.” (Job 19:19)

On a seemingly different but still difficult topic, I have suffered five miscarriages. A decade has passed since the last tiny soul took a part of my heart to Heaven. Thankfully, with time I have healed from those significant losses. However, currently, a new heartbreaking type of loss feels like my constant unwanted companion, which I am realizing mirrors in many ways the former losses.

The number of close friends who have walked away from me in the last few years is more than my mind can comprehend and feels more than my heart can bear. As I recently listened to this podcast episode on miscarriage, all I could do was see everything through the prism of miscarried friendships. Both cut to the core of our being, upending so much of what we thought we knew and could expect.

Spontaneous loss. Zero control. A very unseen experience. Terrified to try again. All descriptions of both.

A friendship I had that was expected to last a lifetime was unexpectedly cut short. Not through death, which would have been hard enough, but through an unexplainable breaking of the strong bond that had held our two hearts together. Love had been deeply poured into the friendship again and again by both parties. Laughter and good memories had been abundant as well. Deep valleys trudged together had only forged a deeper bond. These were two hearts never meant to be apart in spirit, or so I thought. Now, out of the blue, these same hearts are permanently disconnected. A miscarriage of friendship has occurred. And then another. And another. All in relatively short succession. All wreaking havoc to my soul and leaving me reeling. I am so sorry if you can relate. However, if you can, I pray the following will bring a measure of comfort.

Who is the first being ever to call out, “Where are you?” to close friends who abandoned and rejected him?

God.

God was the first to ever experience rejection and the deep loss of friendship (Genesis 1-3). He thoroughly knows the piercing agony you are enduring. Repeatedly experientially knows it. Throughout all generations. Even to the present.

It is hard for me to write this post. To approach my agitated thoughts and feelings and force them into limited, tangible, coherent words for public consumption. To pry open the door to my heart and face all the unexpected and unexplainable rejection I never could have imagined I would bear. I am hurting. I am in pain. But I am not the first. God is. And that reality right there makes me now closer and more intimate with God. My loss has carried me straight into a deeper relationship with the Creator of friendship. To know my Savior more is a priceless comfort in the aftermath of great loss. Will you also turn your hurting heart to the One who was the first to ever experience such shattering?

The second ray of comfort is that I am slowly healing. I am slowly making new friends. Legit, new, real friends. The type that surprise you at your birthday and make you feel all special. The type that open up and share their deep stuff. The type that offer to watch your kids so you can enjoy a much needed date and then actually follow through when you hesitantly ask. The type that make you laugh again and realize that after loss life does still indeed exist. The type that make you realize how meaningful it is to simply be hugged. These budding new friendships have taken me by surprise and provided a deep solace to my aching heart.

But I am no longer naive. Proverbs 14:13 says, “Even in laughter the heart may be in pain, and the end of joy may be grief.” I do not know the ending of my new friendships. One day they too may end in tears. But can I find comfort by trusting the God who has numbered the days of my friendships just as He has numbered the days of my life? (Psalm 139:16) Can I vulnerably keep loving others just as God has? He has yet to stop creating and loving humanity. He has continued to create person after person, opening Himself up to repeated rejection. Why? Why does He continue to vulnerably create?

The only way to bear a baby is to risk miscarriage. Friendship is no different. There will always be risk this side of eternity. But if God is unwilling to stop creating and pursuing humanity, how can we call it quits on forming new friendships? We were made in the image of a triune God. We were made for relationship. We were made for friendship (John 15:14-15). After miscarriage, we muster courage to open the womb again. Will we do the same with our heart?