Another healing Sunday fight

I don’t know what it is about Sundays but three of our biggest fights of our marriage have occurred on this holy day.  I think because we’re not distracted by the daily grind, and real issues have time to raise their heads.  This isn’t what we started fighting about (it was about chicken juice and dishes if you must know), but as we were hugging and crying, I admitted I felt sort of defeated.  I feel like I’ve been rejected by loved ones over the past few years, which is fine; I totally get that kids and friends move on.  I don’t pretend to understand or even really accept it, yet I know it’s inevitable.  But when I’ve invested my heart into my friendships and especially my family, I feel sad when it doesn’t seem to matter, hurt that they can just choose to reject me and move on with no explanation.  I don’t get it, and it doesn’t seem fair.  I know, so cliche, so jr. high.  But like I care what it sounds like, I was just telling him how it feels.

I’ve been sad that my son just left for college and has never really looked back, until we come knocking at the rear window every Sunday, curious about his life and how he’s doing.  I explained to my husband through my tears that I feel disposable, that my life’s work doesn’t seem to have meant much.  As I said that out loud, I realized I’d been holding it in for a long, long time.  

As we talked, I basked in his wisdom and soothing advice.  Even though it’s terribly difficult to admit he’s right.  I feel hurt and justified, whereas he’s trying to encourage me to be a little softer.  He’s told me before, you just need to love him, don’t try to fix him.  Love the people who have hurt you.  Obviously solid advice.  But if you know me, you’d know that’s inefficient and not being entirely honest from where I stand.  Why can’t I just say what I really think, why can’t we be real and talk instead?  But I know he’s right.  I think love is a softer way.  Listening is a better way.  Trying to understand rather than be understood is a higher way.  Loving like Christ is a far superior way.

So instead of quizzing our son about his upcoming summer plans as we talked late last night, we skirted around the elephant in the room and kept the conversation light and airy.  Instead of coming across as anxious and concerned and impatient, we asked about rockets, ceramics and girls.  We talked about religion, but only from an academic vantage point as he explained the interesting insights he’s been learning in his most recent class.  We talked about future classes he’ll be taking.  As to a timeline regarding when that might be, we never asked.

Instead of ignoring the ones I feel hurt by, I’m trying to tentatively reach out again.  Because I know, as Todd opened the curtains to show me, sometimes the people who seem to have pulled away are going through difficult times themselves.  Maybe it’s not so much a personal rejection, more of a need to refocus their energies on themselves for awhile.  Maybe they need a soft friend.  Not one who withholds because the friendship isn’t on level ground at the moment.  I feel left out because they haven’t shared their pains with me. Why, I don’t know.  This puzzles me and so my heart yearns to be protected, to let others go before they leave me. I remember being completely honest with a friend about this, asking her if it even mattered that I kept trying to be a friend and she told me straight up, Don’t give up on me.  So many times I’ve wanted to even since.  She doesn’t seem to need me as a friend.  And yet, I hear that sentiment echoing in my mind and I hang on to it as a reminder that maybe others are feeling the same way but just aren’t able to vocalize it.  My mantra has always been, Once a friend, always a friend.  And so it’s confused me and created a tender heart as I sense not everyone feels the same.

I also couldn't help but ask myself when have I let someone go who has tried to be my friend?  How good am I at staying in touch with people I love, and how can I be better? We all have good intentions, I think most of us long for strong and meaningful connections and we love our friends, but I know it's not easy to keep it up with them all.  I know my son and I have a deep love, I know our relationship is solid; when we talk and when we're together, it is loving and warm and we're right back to where we've always been.  I think what's painful is that I miss him.  I miss how it used to be.  And I miss my friends who have other commitments right now, who have moved away, who need to focus on something else for awhile.  Like my son.

As I start a new week with all this in mind, I long to be more Christlike.  I’m recommitted to asking Heavenly Father what He knows instead of relying on only what I see.  I know I profess to be a Christian, and I acknowledge we’ve had a lot on our minds lately with our kitchen and farm and house and kids, like everyone. I’ve been more than a little distracted and self-centered, oblivious to the pains and burdens my friends are bearing. But I’m humbled by my talk with my best friend and confidant, who cried with me and who sees clearly into my heart.  He knows I want to be loving and kind.  But that I’ve been so hurt that it’s hard, that I’m just being cautious. I’m glad for a companion who helps me see what I’ve been missing, what I haven’t been able to give, the one person who can call me out on my misbehavior and show me a better way to love.  I’m thankful for repentance.  So grateful  for a chance to try again.  I’m pleading for a heart like His.  For His love to seep into the crevices of my cracked heart so I can open it again.