Some friendships feel like they were planned long before we ever met. My friendship with Barbara is one of those. I want to tell you about her, because she has been one of the great gifts of my life, and because this song says what I feel better than I can: through every season, I’ve had a true friend in her.

Five weeks on a deck above the Bay

I had been vegan for about two years when I realized that eating differently wasn’t enough. I needed to stand up for the animals. Around that time, over a decade ago, I was visiting my brother in San Francisco, and through a chain of events I can only call miraculous, I ended up in El Cerrito (right next to Berkeley), meeting Barbara.

We both knew right away that we were going to be friends. For the next five weeks, every week, we met with another friend on a deck overlooking the San Francisco Bay, and we talked for four or five hours at a time. Barbara had been vegan for around thirty years, far longer than me, and she was so excited that I was stepping into the animal rights movement. I felt seen, welcomed, and cheered on.

A shared dream, and a log house

Barbara believed in my dream of a vegan community, and she had the means to help make it real. At first we planned to build it on my own land, but building takes time, and everything was moving slowly. Then the log house at Living Springs came up for sale. With the house, the big metal building, and a basement suite with its own entrance, it was ready to go, full of potential. Barbara decided to buy it.

The log house became the Jesus Vegans office. We hired my son full time and two part-time permaculture helpers. It was an exciting season.

Learning what I wasn’t ready for

After about a year, it was clear the community wasn’t going to happen, at least not then. I could finally see that I wasn’t ready to lead a community, even though I had been sure I was.

Barbara and I stayed friends, but we had our ups and downs. I take responsibility for my part: I didn’t always handle conflict well, and I was impatient. There were seasons when we stepped apart. Looking back, those separations were exactly what we needed. Our friendship was so close it was almost like a marriage, and sometimes, like in a marriage, you need distance to get perspective and to grow on your own. Every time, we came back together.

Through all of it, Barbara made sure this house was here for me to live in. There were times she tried to sell it, because owning a place like this is a real burden, and I never blamed her for that. I always tried to support her.

Robert, who keeps everything running

I also want to thank Robert, my former husband, who has lived here at the log house almost as long as I have. I could not have lived here without him. When the pump needs resetting because I’ve accidentally left the water on, or something goes wrong with the spring system, or any of the hundred little things a country place needs, Robert takes care of it with all his skills as a former contractor. I’m deeply grateful to him.

The multigenerational chapter

Last fall, in 2025, I thought my passion was multigenerational family living. Robert and I wondered whether we could somehow keep the land, perhaps for my son and daughter-in-law and the grandchildren, as a family homestead. They lived here for six months, and I loved having my family close. I learned so much about being a better grandparent and a better parent. I even dreamed of living here for the rest of my life, nurturing this beautiful family.

But we all came to see that a place like this is a very big commitment, more than any of us wanted to take on. Then, almost like a miracle, they found a house they love, bought it, and are living there happily now. I visit them every week with Cliff, my son’s father.

I never stopped being vegan through that season, but I had drifted from my commitment to animal rights. Barbara helped me find my way back.

Closer than ever

In the last three or four months, Barbara and I have reconnected more deeply than ever before. We’ve each grown so much. Together we have worked through how to list the house, disclosure, choosing a realtor, a pre-inspection, and writing this blog: hours and hours of working side by side.

We don’t think of it as selling a house. We think of it as outreach: opening the door for someone to step into this beautiful place. For nine years I’ve poured my life into these grounds, opening up the gardens with cardboard and mulch and clearing the boulder cascade so we could plant there. Barbara and I are praying together that someone will come and build a farm animal sanctuary here, maybe even with the 40 acres next door. Or a vegan community, a co-living home, a retreat center, a plant-based event center, a campground. I can’t wait to write down every idea, and Barbara loves my ideas as much as I love hers.

Someone who reads my soul

For about four years I’ve had a morning practice with Jesus. First I remember a time I felt inspired by Him. Then I rest in feeling connected to Him and remember that He is there for me. Then I ask Him to help me recall a painful memory that needs healing. I always feel His presence and His empathy, and often I picture Him holding me like a little child. I cry every single day, and I come out the other side with hope and energy.

I write these mornings down as prayers and reflections, and recently I started sharing these with Barbara. She tells me she loves reading about my past. This surprised and delighted me. Having someone look into my soul and appreciate who I am helps me thrive. Our friendship helps me keep stepping into the destiny I believe God has for me. I have always wanted a friend like this.

I follow Jesus, and Barbara is a Buddhist, and we keep finding how much our faiths have in common. I’m a Christian universalist: I believe all will be saved eventually, and that there will be a new heaven and a new earth, where, as Isaiah promises, the wolf will lie down with the lamb and no creature will harm another. I don’t believe the Bible teaches that God is so cruel that He would torture people for eternity. Barbara loves to let me pray aloud with her. She often asks me to pray with her, and that means more to me than I can say.

My hero

Barbara loves the animals and loves all of life. She is dedicated to helping the whole world thrive. She once told me she wanted to start an animal rights organization that would truly nurture and empower people; more like a community than a campaign. I had forgotten we’d talked about that, and recently when she talked about this vision, she inspired me to make that my goal. Combining animal rights with community is my perfect niche that I have been searching for ever since I was nineteen. I actually said, “I want to find my niche,” and that is why I traveled alone for 13 months from Europe to Asia.

Once the house sells, we both are looking forward to working on this project together.

Life keeps Barbara in California for now, and I hope she can come out here someday. Either way, she’ll live the life she wants, I’ll live the life I want, and we’ll support each other all the way. We are lifelong friends, learning what true friendship really means: asking for what we need, and telling each other what nurtures us.

So we’ll keep dreaming big. Nothing is impossible with God, and I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Barbara, thank you for being such a true friend, through every season. I love you, and I’m so grateful.

A few insights

• The deepest friendships can hold seasons of distance. Stepping apart gave each of us room to grow, and we came back stronger.
• Being truly seen, even through something as simple as a comment on a morning reflection, helps a person thrive.
• A plan that doesn’t work out isn’t wasted. Every chapter of this house taught us something we needed.
• Different faiths can walk side by side. Barbara’s Buddhism and my faith in Jesus keep meeting in love for all beings.

How we wrote this together

This article was written collaboratively between Patricia, a resident of the Living Springs Log House, and Claude.ai, Anthropic’s AI assistant. Patricia spoke her memories and feelings about Barbara freely and from the heart, and Claude gathered them into order, shaped the sections, and kept her voice and her story intact. The illustration was created with AI.

See more of the land and its story at www.livingspringsloghouse.com