Why Friendships Matter More Than Ever

November 26, 2025

It’s been half a year since my mom passed, and I miss her a lot. I still imagine the times we used to walk hand in hand around Phalen Lake in St. Paul. I can’t believe I left my hometown back in 2013. I didn’t even think about what it would mean to my parents—only that I was leaving to start my life with the man who would become my husband.

I look at my babies’ faces—Gabriel and Melody—and I’m so thankful she got to hold them. I have memories of them together, and that is the best gift God could have given me. My father-in-law never got to meet them, and that still hurts my heart.

When I really miss my mom and want to sit in her memory, I put “A Song for Mama” by Boyz II Men on repeat. That song takes me back to California, to the days when we were running the neighborhood at all hours. We were naughty kids who tasted the freedom of a millennial childhood.

My mother carried a lot on her shoulders—like most mothers do. I think about my own life and the weight of motherhood: feeling under-appreciated, overworked, overstimulated, and most of all… inadequate.

I’ve known that feeling of inadequacy since the womb. My father was unfaithful. He had girlfriends… and his opium. I learned only recently that when my mother gave birth to me, my father was at another hospital with his dying girlfriend. He wasn’t there for my mother the way she needed him—throughout her pregnancy, during labor, or afterward.

When I learned this, it gave me so much clarity. I’ve struggled with inadequacy for so much of my life—especially before and after I got married. That spirit stole my joy and peace. It made me feel ugly and undesirable. I didn’t like myself. I didn’t even recognize myself.

For years after I got married, I couldn’t see beyond the weight of insecurity. I felt unworthy of friendship because I couldn’t even be a friend to myself. I felt alone and isolated—even though I wasn’t. But deception can be thick, and it kept me in the dark.

Even now, I still struggle with feeling inadequate. It doesn’t knock me off my feet the way it used to, but it still knocks me off balance. And as I heal, I’m learning that friendships are more important than ever—especially the friendship I extend to myself before anyone else. I have to become the friend that I need in order to truly be a friend to others.

Now, when I think about everything my mother must have gone through—as a woman, a wife, and a mother—I see how she clung to friendships. She had friends who carried her through life. And that’s what I want to be to others: a true friend. Even if we go months or years without talking, I want to be the person who shows up when it matters most.

I admit this has been an area of struggle for me, but I want to change that as I move forward. Life is too short to live without meaningful friendships.

My prayer is that on this journey—wherever life finds each of us—we make the effort to reach out, or at least remain reachable. You are not alone, my friend. I am your sister. I am your friend. I am your ally.