On my daughter's wedding day, I was calm, cool, and collected. Seriously. Almost everything was going according to plan and the rest was no big deal. I checked on everyone. I monitored the plan that would eventually take us from the house to the altar. And most important, in all the whirlwind of activity that had descended on our lives, I stayed out of the way.

Friends are a great blessing. Before the service, many commented on the beautiful location, the perfect weather, etc. (No one mentioned how dashing I looked in my tux, but I'm sure that just slipped their minds.) And there was the good-natured kidding. But two approached me with great seriousness. To protect their identities, let's just call them Ran Vosler and Chris Huff.

Ran and Chris were veterans not simply of weddings -- I was myself -- but of daughter weddings, of which I had no experience whatsoever. They came to me with sincere concern. "You doing okay?" "Remember, you're not losing a daughter." "When you see her, you're going to get all emotional." "You've got to man up and stay strong." "Have a handkerchief?" "Save the crying for later." "Just keep smiling."

I nodded and assured them I was fine, had looked forward to this day, and was having a great time. My mental response was more along the lines of, "You poor guys. Must have been really rough for you." I still recall their looks of doubt as they patted me on the back. Soon guests were seated. Music played from somewhere. Bridesmaids were lining up for their big entry. Then something happened.

I turned around and for the first time saw my daughter in her wedding dress. The world suddenly stopped. For one second I was holding my newborn daughter, watching her first steps, playing with her on the beach, tossing her into a pile of leaves, camping on an island, hiking in the mountains, seeing her in a her prom dress, taking her to college, and hearing of some young man she thought was cute. I forced a smile, swallowed hard, remembered I wasn't losing her, and fumbled around for that handkerchief.

Where do we look for help? The Bible is filled with people crying out to God. Some frantically wonder where He is, questioning why He's turned a deaf ear. Others have great assurance that He's by their side, offering hope in a hopeless situation. Most look up, waiting for holy thunder and fire from the sky.

God does work that way, but not very often. Most of the time He helps us through the hearts of those who love Him, using them to reach out, care for, share with, and encourage. It all goes to the message God gave us from the very beginning of time -- love one another. (1 John 3:11) Encourage, build up, lift up, pray for, listen to, counsel with, stand by...these are the ways of friends.

God moves through friends to bring His joy, peace, comfort, strength, and love. But it takes great courage to be a friend. Not everyone responds with kindness. Some abuse the relationship, leaving us to wonder if it's really worth the effort. Even Jesus was betrayed. But when it's all said and done, I would rather risk my heart, be a friend, and have a friend, than walk through this world alone.

A psalmist wrote, My help comes from the LORD,the Maker of heaven and earth (Psalm 121:2). That is absolutely true, and I'm very blessed to have wonderful friends through whom God moves to help me. Do they always say and do the right thing? No. Sometimes they mess up. Sometimes they need me to be a friend to them. Maybe that's the reason behind "each other". We're all in this together.