Quicksand of Pride

Oh how sad it is that so many relationships get and stay stuck. They get mired down in the quicksand that is pride, jealousy, unforgiveness, and misunderstanding.

People move on, but relationships can remain interminably stuck.

I wrote a post several months ago about bullies. A friend of mine was buying gas when an almost unrecognizable man from his past walked up to him and apologized for the way he bullied my friend in junior high school.

My friend was relieved and grateful for the man’s kind words. Almost immediately, the old ugly relationship became unstuck. Two grown men were finally able to heal the brokenness and send the old hurts packing.

I recently saw one of my old bullies. We’re grown women – she’s a grandmother – but the relationship is stuck in a muddy swamp of judgmental condemnation. I’m courteous when I’m around her, but I can still see her cold eyes and her gnarled finger pointing at me from across the table during a conversation many years ago.

You’re weak.

You’re not a good friend.

You’re jealous.

God has graciously allowed my family and me to walk through incredible fires. I didn’t come out unscathed, but I learned many things about myself. I discovered I’m stronger than I could ever have imagined and I’m a generous and steadfast friend.

I learned that when we unfairly accuse others of jealousies and hidden sins, we’re actually revealing more about the state of our own hearts. When we point fingers at others, we shine spotlights on our own darkness.

I recently spent a bit of time with another old friend. It’s been years since I had a real conversation with him and the friendship ended badly when he called me a liar. While he and I are both cordial, the relationship is stuck.

Does he still believe I lied? Does he see me for who I really am? Does he care about what my family has been through—the miracles we’ve seen, or the life lessons we can share with the world?

I never lied to him – not ever.

People grow, change, move, mature, and evolve, but pride keeps relationships stuck.

So, how do we find our way out of the gunk and goop that keeps relationships in a bad place? Well, we don’t “find” our way out of it. We FIGHT our way out. We have to confront, tell the truth, chase away misunderstandings, and break the chains of pride and preconceived judgments so that we can be free.

I’m exhausted from trying to single handily pull relationships out of quicksand. I’m not even sure why it’s important to me, when it’s painfully obvious that it’s not important to those who insist on remaining buried in the past.

That’s not true. I know why it’s important to me. I value what once was, and losing you still hurts.

Well-Behaved Women Seldom Make History

The great thing about blogging is I feel I have the freedom to be transparent here on these pages. I’m not looking for acceptance or heads nodding in wild agreement with my every thought and rant. Sadly, however, that’s exactly what I sought from friends and family for most of my life. Fear of not fitting in or not being accepted dominated me for too many years. I want to be more self-assured.

Last weekend I had the great honor of sharing a car ride to and from Los Angeles with a smart, talented, and strong woman. She is not afraid to speak truth and she oozes confidence.

Resolute and gutsy women can be intimidating, and therefore are often run out of groups, churches, or businesses. That’s especially true in churches. In religious institutions, I find that religiosity trumps relationships, even though Jesus taught the exact opposite. As I listened to my friend share her heart and her stories, I found myself envying her uncompromising confidence.

I’ve spent my whole life trying to be exactly what I was expected to be. I was “the strong one” in my family and I always felt an obligation to be there for everyone else. I’ve honored my commitments and followed through on my promises to complete projects—even if it meant going without sleep or missing out on “me” time.

I’ve written before about being the “good girl”. For me, being the good girl meant that I was often hushed—sometimes by my own fear of rejection.

When life happened and I had to focus on my own stuff, I stopped doing for everyone else. I was told I was “selfish”. When I expressed an unpopular opinion I was accused of being “manipulative”. When I took a stand against sarcasm and family drama I was told I was “critical” and “judgmental”.

Even though I know in my heart that I speak truth and that surely I have the right to my own feelings and opinions, I have allowed myself to believe the lies. I am convinced that if I do not behave in the manner to which others have become accustomed, then I will have less value. I’ve let the expectations and needs of everyone else dominate my thoughts and deeds. Along the way, I lost me.

I wondered, during that long car-ride with my new friend, how it was that she understood that what others thought of her was their problem. She knows her heart, and I truly wish I had her confidence.

Listen, this is the deal—if you care enough about me to have a relationship with me you will not make assumptions or judgmental accusations, and you won’t attack my character. If you’re confused about something I said, or upset with my actions, you will talk to me and you will believe that what I’m telling you is the truth.

I know my heart and more importantly—God knows my heart. I refuse to be well behaved because it’s what YOU expect from me! Well-behaved women seldom make history!

But I Would Have Missed The Miracle

A week or two ago we went through our storage unit looking for treasures we could use in a newly remodeled bedroom here at home, as well as long forgotten stuff we could release to the trash bin. I am so anxious to thin out my life, and bit-by-bit that is happening. It’s a good feeling. Tucked in the back corner of the unit was a large bag filled with work that had been done by my now 25-year-old son when he was in the first grade. I smiled as I read the simple sentences and enjoyed the short stories that screamed innocence and creativity. Each carefully completed assignment had a happy face sticker, a star sticker, or perhaps the word “excellent” stamped in the middle of the page. Dallas received awards and accolades. He was a child brimming with hope and the promise of a bright future. The mommy I was to that bright little boy could never have imagined one day sitting in a prison lobby, waiting for my name to be called so I could spend 30 minutes visiting my incarcerated son.

Dallas did not take the road I had expected him to take, and certainly not the path I would have chosen for him. I would have chosen the safe streets, the careful course, or the respectable route. But really, what was my dream from the beginning for each of my children? It was that they would grow to be kind, honest, happy adults who know who they are and how very much we love them. I dreamed of them being game changers whose talents made a difference in the world. World shakers don’t often take the traditional road, so I see now that the safe way would not have afforded my son the tools that have helped to shape the man he is today.

What would I do differently if I had it to do all over again? Would I have punished Dallas more, spanked him harder, put him in special schools, home schooled him, or sent him to a military academy? It’s easy for people on the outside to give me their pious opinions and rose-colored observations. For MANY years I heard the gossip, rumors, judgmental criticisms, and the “if he were my son” advice and gibberish from people I had once called "friend". God CHOSE me to be Dallas’s mom and I took that calling both joyfully and seriously. I did the best I could and God equipped me with what I lacked.

And today? Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I am so lucky to have had a front row seat to the miracles that are my children. I would never have chosen my path from the Sears and Roebuck Catalog of Paths, but I would have missed the journey! The little boy whose school work at age 6 revealed so much hope and promise is today a young man of 25 whose writings, music, words, and talent reveals so much hope and promise for this day and for the future. I’m so glad I didn’t give up my front row seat to the miracles that are my children.