I receive a late-night phone call from a dear friend. After it ends, I put my head on the pillow and think about how sweet that friendship is, how dear that friend is. And I give thanks for him. (And I know I have to write it down.) Him I see as nothing less than a gift from God.
And now I think I have stumbled upon the touchstone of a friendship’s quality:
Is there a better sign of friendship than one man continuing to be thankful that the other has intruded on his affairs?