The Shelter of Friends

While February is known as the month of love, I think less about romance and more about the love of friends. If anything, it has been the love of my friends that has supported my nearly 40 years of love with my husband, Gary.

We live in an age of increasing isolation, losing the deep social capital that once wove our communities together. I count it a privilege in 2025 to live in the same city and home I grew up in. My neighbors knew my parents. A new neighbor was in my summer company at the Naval Academy. I go to church with someone who grew up alongside my brothers. That kind of connection—of history intertwined with the present—is rare.

Most people don’t have that anymore. Work schedules, transient communities, and modern busyness make it harder to build lasting friendships. And yet, friendships are what sustain us.

It is in the shelter of each other
that the people live. -Celtic Saying

So, in celebration of the friendships that uphold us—and in honor of the 10th anniversary of a friend who went the distance—let me tell you about Cathie.

A Friendship Forged by the Sea

I hadn’t been on Oahu a week before Cathie’s name found its way to me. An Air Force family using the same homeschool curriculum encouraged me to reach out. It turned out Cathie and I shared more than just homeschooling—we were both from Maryland, both Navy wives, and both raising a small army of boys.

Quick action sparks a connection, but could I keep it? That takes a slow, steady walk of grace, love, and forgiveness.

Our friendship was founded on Waikiki Beach. At the time, my family of eight was crammed into temporary housing at the Hilton Garden Inn, waiting—like so many military families—for a spot on base. Meanwhile, Cathie would haul her crew from the Navy shipyard to spend mornings and afternoons by the water with us.

At the water’s edge, we kept watch over our collective 11 kids, swapping stories and learning just how much we had in common. We spent our childhood summers in Ocean City, MD, and both had been athletes who felt most at home in the water. Conversation flowed as quickly as the tide—until one day, we uncovered something that made us different.

Cathie’s eyes locked onto the Naval Academy ring on my finger one afternoon. Recognition flashed across her face.

“I have a ring just like that!” she exclaimed.

I knew she didn’t.

As a member of only the second class of women at the Academy, I knew every woman in those first two classes. I also knew Cathie was old enough that the opportunity wouldn’t have been available. What she had, I realized, was a miniature class ring—the kind midshipmen gave as engagement rings to their girlfriends. Her husband, John, had graduated years before women were even admitted.

I chose my words carefully. “You don’t have a ring like this one, Cathie.”

“No, really—I do!” she insisted, likely thinking I was a little slow.

I held out my hand. “Take a closer look.”

She bent down to examine it, realization dawning as I explained that mine wasn’t a girlfriend’s ring. It was a graduate’s ring.

Cathie stood up straight, eyes narrowing. “Then why,” she asked, “did you let me say all those things about women in the Navy and at the Academy?”

I thought back to all the conversations we’d had, all the opinions she had shared. I had been there to make a friend, not a feud.

I shrugged and grinned. “We’re in Hawaii. We’re at the beach. Our kids are playing in the surf. I just didn’t see the point.”

She stared at me for a beat before bursting into laughter. Right there, between the sand and the waves, our friendship solidified.

Sheltering Lesson #1:

Early on, don’t take offense easily—if at all. The connection is fragile. Curiosity and listening will see you through speed bumps.

This week marks the 10th anniversary of Cathie’s passing. Each year, I process a little more of what it means to have a friend who goes the distance—even when she didn’t have a ring like mine.