Finding common ground in friendship is a lost art when it comes to things that matter most. Last weekend, on a crisp spring afternoon, I swung by my friend Kate’s new place. Kate and I, best friends since high school, make it a point to catch up every few months. But life—wild and relentless—had other plans. Both of us were swept up in the chaos of moving into new homes over the past year, and before we knew it, more than a year had slipped by since we’d last seen each other face-to-face. When I rang the doorbell, I was greeted by Hans, her massive Great Pyrenees, whose enthusiastic welcome made me grin. Kate and I hugged, brewed some herbal tea, and dove into conversation as if no time had passed at all.
The Beauty of Differences In Friendship
Kate’s new home was stunning—a 1990s gem with solid bones, craving a few modern touches but radiating care and love. “I haven’t gotten to the interior updates I want,” Kate said, almost sheepishly. “The outside needed so much work when we moved in.” But honestly? The house was already brimming with cozy charm. Sunlight poured into the great room, and Kate’s minimalist style was evident in every corner. It felt like her. Despite the time apart, I instantly felt at home, warmed by the love she and her husband had poured into their space.
As we settled onto the back deck with steaming mugs, I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about our history. Kate and I have always been polar opposites politically. Even as kids, our parents’ views clashed, and we followed suit—like apples sticking close to their trees. It’s a wonder we stayed best friends through it all. Back in high school, we’d have these lively debates in the car to and from swim practice, tackling everything from stem cell research to women’s rights. But no matter how heated things got, we always had our shared loves to fall back on: growing up in Christian homes, bonding over the same music, cracking up at SNL skits, and, of course, our passion for swimming, which carried us through high school and into college.
Finding Common Ground
Under the glow of the spring sun, with cottonwoods shedding their fluffy blooms, Kate and I spent nearly two hours catching up. She and her husband are stepping into the exciting (and nerve-wracking) journey of starting a family. I shared stories from my own adventure—wrangling a five- and three-year-old, which is less “raising” and more “keeping them alive.” We swapped book recommendations, reminisced about old friends, and laughed like no time had passed.
But there was an elephant in the room. A divisive presidential election had come and gone since our last meetup, and I wondered if our carefree car debates were a thing of the past. Yet, as we talked, I realized something: our friendship has always thrived not in spite of our differences, but because of how we embrace them. We don’t shy away from tough topics, but we always return to the roots of what binds us—shared values, shared laughter, and a whole lot of shared history.
Seeing the Person Behind the Perspective
Sipping our tea, I gently steered the conversation to work. “How’s your job with Homeland Security going?” I asked. Kate let out a sigh, her eyes tracing the horizon. “It’s been upheaval city,” she said. The new DOGE initiatives were shaking things up in her office. She lit up talking about some changes—streamlined processes she was genuinely excited about—but her brow furrowed when she mentioned the challenges. “Smaller states don’t have the resources we do for natural disaster response,” she explained. “Some of these policies hit them hard.”
Curious, I leaned in, asking why she felt the way she did and how her political views shaped her take. As she spoke, I found myself nodding, seeing angles I’d never considered. Kate wasn’t just spouting opinions—she was living this reality, navigating complexities I’d only glimpsed in headlines. It hit me like a bolt: this is what we’re missing. Social media and our pocket devices have us sorting people into “agree” or “disagree” boxes, blind to their lived experiences. Sitting there, listening to Kate, I felt a quiet respect settle in—not just for her perspective, but for her. Namaste, indeed: the person in me honors the person in you.
Bridging the Divide
Kate knows where I stand politically, and I braced myself, half-expecting our chat to take a tense turn. But instead, she flipped the script, asking me the same thoughtful questions I’d posed to her. “You know where my vote likelyBr went,” I said with a chuckle, “but neither party gets it all right. Tariffs, for example—they’ve hit hard on small businesses I care about. Some of those owners are close friends, and I hate seeing their livelihoods squeezed.” Kate nodded, her eyes steady, and we found ourselves not debating, but sharing—swapping stories of real people and real impacts, not just talking points. It was a reminder that our differences don’t have to divide us; they can deepen our understanding if we let them.
We’re All People – Let’s Act Like It
That afternoon didn’t just warm my heart by reconnecting with an old friend; it rewired how I see the world. The person in the grocery store sporting a “Bernie 2028” hat? They’re a person. The elderly neighbor with the iconic MAGA cap? A person. Each of us carries a tapestry of experiences and perspectives that deserves a listening ear, no matter how far they stray from our own. Sure, some views might feel out there—unhinged, even—but behind every stance is a story. If you sit long enough, ear open and judgment paused, you might earn the trust to hear it. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find common ground to share why you see things differently.
I left Kate’s house with a full heart and a new resolve. I pray for more afternoons like that one—where we set aside our screens and earbuds, pick up a warm mug, and truly listen. Because in the end, it’s not about agreeing. It’s about seeing the person across the table for who they are.
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