Best friends do whatever it takes

When our boys were younger, they spent a lot of time in their rooms. Not of their own volition. Typically the older two, Jeff and Adam, would have plotted against their younger brother, Andy, found themselves in trouble, and were exiled (tortured, as they would tell it) to spend time in solitary confinement.

Poor Andy. Four years Adam's junior, he was his brothers' guinea pig. If Jeff and Adam needed someone to don a football helmet and run through the woods while they shot bb's at him, Andy was their bulls-eye. If the older two didn't want to chase the baseballs they intentionally threw ten feet over each others' heads, it was retriever Andy to the rescue. For the few felonies committed against Andy that I actually found out about, Jeff and Adam would be sent to their bedrooms located down the hall from each other.

One day they were in big trouble. They were banished to their rooms and reminded they weren't to talk to each other. An hour or two later --or maybe three, depending on how much I was enjoying the peace and quiet -- I went to check on them.

As I turned the corner, I noticed the hallway looked like the sixth floor of one of those New York tenement apartment buildings where clotheslines stretch from one flat to another. String ran down the hallway -- on an improvised pulley system -- with clothes-pinned notes being transported from one bedroom to another. I stood quietly and watched as messages were sent back and forth. A hand would emerge from the slightly-cracked door, nab the paper, and replace it within a minute or two. Then the string would start moving down the hallway, ferrying its newly-scripted message.

Intercepting one of the papers, I noticed that each had added to what his brother had written. Jeff was feeling sorry for himself. Adam was, of course, scheming to not get caught the next time they tortured their younger brother.

I couldn't help but smile. (It's miraculous what a few hours of solitude did for my attitude.) Jeff and Adam always had a special bond.

Perhaps it was that they were only 18 months apart. Perhaps it was that we moved so frequently and they were the only playmate each had. Perhaps it was because of their propensity to get into trouble. Whatever it was, they were of kindred spirit.

Jesus knew all about kindred spirits, about making it a priority to spend time with his best friend, about finding a way to talk to his Father. In "The Relationship Principles of Jesus" Tom Holloday describes Jesus' prayer life in this way:

"Jesus prayed through all hours of the night and early in the morning. He prayed alone, with his disciples, and in front of crowds. He prayed lengthy and focused prayers, and he also interrupted a teaching or conversation to offer a brief prayer. Jesus prayed in the comfort of time alone with his Father in the hills of Galilee, in the pressure of a time of decision in the garden of Gethsemane, and in the torture of his time of suffering on the cross of Calvary. He prayed when someone needed to be fed and when someone needed to be healed. He prayed when parents asked for their children to be blessed. He prayed when there was a person to be forgiven."

Jesus knew the importance of staying connected with the One who meant the most to him, and something tells me that, even if the only way he could have talked with his Father would have been through a rigged pulley system, he would have made it happen. Best friends do whatever it takes.