You may remember my sweet friends Jason and Candace. They got married about a year ago and it was an amazingly awesome day.

I got a call Saturday afternoon. Jason’s mom had been killed in a car accident.

Shock. Heartache. Loss. Sadness. All in one swirl of minutes and conversations.

And suddenly my life is full of old numbers. After talking to Candace, I found myself running through the rolodex in my mind of friends from college that love the Couch family and would want to know.

So strange to realized that the same numbers on my speed dial in college couldn’t even be found on Anita the iPhone.

The numbers I had dialed on a daily basis were now having to be located and called for the first time in, oh I don’t know, years maybe. Months for sure.

The friends that I needed to speak to, I couldn’t find. We don’t live next door anymore. We don’t attend the same church. Work at the same campus ministry. Carpool on the same vacations. Sit in the same bleachers. Pray in the same chapel. Eat at the same restaurant.

In some cases, we don’t even live in the same country anymore. [Shout out to the Griffiths, whom we all wish were here this week.]

We aren’t the group we used to be. Until moments like these.

Moments that bring those old numbers back. That get fingers typing and emails flying through the internet postal system. Moments that remind us that maybe we aren’t so far apart after all. That though we’ve seen each other at weddings and parties over the years, this is different; this time, we need each other.

Moments when we are broken. Not for ourselves, but for them. For the boys who lost their mama too soon. For the husband who lost his wife. For the current, and future, grandkids and spouses who will never know the woman who built this family. She was wonderful. I’m glad I got to know her. Really glad.

Ye old Toyota Camry points south again today. Headed to the lowest parts of Georgia to sit on a row with the leading characters from “Annie’s Life: 1998-2002.” To stand by the best friend who has lost her mother-in-law. To hug Jason and Justin, my dear friends, who have lost their mom. To weep with those who weep. To mourn with those who mourn. To pray without ceasing for the spirit of God to be the Comforter that Jesus promised. Just to all be together. For them.

I saved all those lost and old numbers

in hopes of not needing them

for moments like this

ever again.