A toxic friendship, a painful goodbye. In my mind, the heroic thing to do, the best choice, was to walk away and to put the relationship behind me. No phone calls, no emails, no letters, no more giving advice, and lengthy talks that ranged from begging and pleading for change to the stern, “I do not care anymore if you kill yourself with a bottle.” Real-life, however, is different. Truth is, I did not have the heart to burn the bridge and walk away.

There was a history between us and despite the lies that came with addiction, the anguish that came from watching her life fall apart, my desire to stay and see things through was greater than my desire to walk away. I had held the match in my hand a thousand times and said that “I was done” but I was not. A person stood before me with a big heart and when not under the influence of alcohol, she was a person that was compassionate and caring. She empathized with those who were hurting in ways that others could not, perhaps because she shared a similar story and walked a similar path. My friend is gifted with both the art of conversation and humor, and she can easily make friends out of strangers.

Rehabilitation efforts have been frequent and ongoing, but denial has loosened its grip and with each effort, continued sobriety seems more hopeful. I have come to realize, that the things my friend tells me may yes, be a lie or exaggerated truth and that changes in mood often mean a change in sobriety; that when she says she is “done with me,” she will be the one to throw the match and burn the bridge. I have resolved, however, to build it back again because for me love and compassion are greater than my anger and disappointment.

I know the anguish that fills the space between love and loss, and I also know that the details of her story along with the stories of others cannot be shared by those of us close to the addict unless in great confidence or more often in the quiet prayers sent up in moments of frustration, despair, and anger. Relationships like this are fragile and often go up in flames lit by the match of self-preservation.

In all of this, I know the Savior, who walks with me and repairs my heart just as He walks with my friend. Prayer has guided me along the way and my heart has opened wider to tend to the fragility of this human condition rather than burn the bridge and never look back. The matches in my mind have fallen away and they have been replaced by a strength that I never knew I had. There are boundaries now and self-care routines. There are times I choose to be absent or to take several steps back when those all too familiar signs begin to repeat themselves. I support her sobriety and look for ways to encourage and nurture her spirit. I pray regularly, for both of us and I send up prayers of thanksgiving and gratitude for each day she lives life without the thing she both craves and denies. I feel reassured in knowing that my friend has accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior and that she was joyfully immersed in baptism.

“Through the Lord’s mercies, we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.” They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22-23 NIV) God calls us to be merciful, to forgive, to lead, to tend to the wounded who walk among us, even those who have inflicted the harm themselves. I know that addiction is a challenging thing to address and to live with. It is painful for those who love an addict and often the resolve to let go and never look back feels like the only choice, the best choice. We can learn to let go, steady ourselves, and then, rather than burn the bridge, we can rise and light the way one step at a time. Hopeless? A fantasy? The world would say yes. I beg to differ. I know the God of creation, who holds the earth and the stars, and my matches.

Laurie Bahlke lives in Michigan and has a love for Christ. She has been blessed with a family, career, and beautiful grandchildren.  She shares personal essays in hopes that they touch another person's life and reflect God's love and mercy. This work may be reprinted with the author's consent,