unexpected friends.

You know when you make the best of friends in the worst of situations? Peter was a friend like that. I first met this fiery old man in a hospital room in South Africa, where his bed lay just three feet from my husband’s. He got a front row seat to our very hardest week, as Scott battled with scan results and misdiagnosis’ and the excruciating pain of a growing tumor in his abdomen (all while navigating a new healthcare system in a foreign country with two small children). But that week wasn’t all sunshine and roses for Peter, either, and Scott quickly entered into his story, too – at first through proximity, but later by a deeply forged and meaningful friendship.

Peter and Scott had shenanigans underway in that hospital room I will never fully understand. It’s that after hour comedy that comes with the territory of being confined to a hospital bed with four sickly roommates and a misunderstanding staff. They have stories of late night defecating and mafia smoke breaks. And their laughter was something that got them through a lot of hard moments in that hospital room, together.

Because there is just no privacy in a hospital room with five occupants, Scott quickly became aware of Peter’s worsening heath condition. He learned when the doctors performed surgery to remove his stomach cancer, they stitched him back together too small, making it impossible for Peter to eat any solid foods. Every day a different doctor would come in with varying opinions, spinning the family through hoops without offering any real solutions. & through this series of unfortunate events, we unexpectedly became friends with another special South African man named Gary.

Gary is Peter’s son, who was home for a few weeks from England to care for his hospitalized father. He came to the hospital room every day to check on Peter, usually to be met with the same response from his aggravated father, “These doctors don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t know what’s going on. This is crap. They won’t even let me eat anything. And do you know how much the hospital charges for this juice?!”

To which Scott quickly learned to chime in from the bed next door, “The doctor was in an hour ago, they’ve pushed surgery back till tomorrow. He’s allowed to eat today, but the nurses weren’t informed and didn’t bring him any food. They’re waiting on the results from his last lab work now.”

Gary and Scott formed their own special friendship, because Scott could fill in all the gaps of medical information that Peter left out – which helped Gary better care for his dad. And when the time came that both men were finally released from the hospital, we celebrated. Together. On Peter’s farm with a good ol’ fashioned South African braai.

We sat around the fire pit late into the night, laughing and sharing stories like lifelong friends. And in a cordial gesture, Gary mentioned to us that if we were ever in England we should stop by his home for a visit. To which we replied, “You mean it?” Because you know sometimes invitations are extended in a manner of being polite – the ones which you never really expect someone to accept – and we needed to know if this was one of those times. Because our little family of four had booked flights to Kenya – & home from Sweden – with a solid two weeks in between with no sure plans of what to do or where to go.

Well, the next thing we knew, we were on a flight to London, where this stranger-turned-friend met us at the gate with big hugs and picked us up from the airport. We stayed in his home, toured the countryside, and were blessed with the most generous hospitality like we were family. As we roasted marshmallows together on the 4th of July, I couldn’t help but smile as I thought back on all the twists and turns that had led us to where we were, and brought these wonderful new people into our lives.

These unexpected friends were such a beautiful gift. They became a part of our story when we didn’t know how much we needed them. Through all the hospitals & hard things it welded together a bond – one that’s hard to explain until you’ve walked through the fire. And as I look back on our time together, I’m grateful beyond words for the subtle yet unmistakable ways God brings people into your life when you least expect it.

We got hit with the news this week that Peter passed away, after fighting a hard battle with cancer. And my mind has been flooded with memories of hospital banter and feeding horses and learning how to sand-sled from the very best. I wish I could have been there to hug him one more time, and hear his gruff voice tell another story of chasing porcupines or monkeys stealing from his fruit trees.

I’m leaning into the truth that you just don’t know the time you’ve got with the people you’re with. That sometimes you’re given years to forge deep, meaningful relationships, and other times the opportunity might only be in weeks, days, or hours. & the more times you put your heart out there to love big, the deeper the pain of distance and loss.

My heart has felt heavy this week. From all the goodbyes that were shared in Kenya, to learning of Peter’s loss, I struggle to understand why we love so deeply the ones we can’t be with. But then I think of the other side of that coin – what it’d be like to have never known them at all. To never have met Gary or Peter or any of our friends-turned-family from around the globe. And I’m quickly reminded that, even in distance, even in loss, the hard is worth it.

because I’m starting to realize that some of the very best moments of my life have come through the most unexpected friends.

thank you for loving us big, Peter. our family is richer because of you.