Learning Curve

I haven't had too much to say lately. I have, however, had a lot of time to reflect.

I don't really have any profound insights, yet I am learning nonetheless. Learning things about God and about me (and others as well).

I am learning that God isn't an absentee father to bastard children, He doesn't play favorites, nor is He an abusive step father. He can handle everything -- my questions and my emotions that are thinly veiled. I can be raw with Him. In fact, He wants nothing less than for me to be real with Him.

I am learning that I can reach a point where I withdraw. I am there now. I disdain pretending and I would rather weather a storm alone than bring others into the storm with me. I hear sweet friends offer up pleas to support me, walk with me, and I have to admit that I am not sure what that looks like. I just know I would rather retreat than to bring attention or concern to myself and bring others down.

I have a servant's heart and I love to serve. I am not really comfortable with the reversal of roles. I am learning, though, that there is a season for both. Just as there cannot be compassion without suffering, there also cannot be true service without allowing others to serve you.

Through this, I am also learning that we are called to be real and to live out our faith in very real ways. We are to be Christ to others. Of course, we fail miserably, but we, by grace, keep on.

A recent conversation about the difference between genuine friends and plastic friends (not sure if the Mean Girls reference was intentional or not, but it's brilliant =)) was very eye-opening.

It is impossible to be everyone's BFF, but moreover, if we are members of the body, we are family (like it or not). Just like with any family, there is a responsibility. I am much more aware of how I respond to others. God forbid I act like a Plastic and either ignore people or throw out a cliche for whatever troubles them (I abhor cliches, but I know I have been guilty of this too). Or worse yet, say I am praying for them in passing and then never bring them before the Throne of Grace.

So, here I am: still long-suffering, still in a hope-deflating valley, still struggling, still fragile, but longing to be taught here and transformed by this time (a transformation that wouldn't be possible without walking through it).

And I see glimpses of change (in me) and it bolsters hope. And I take one more step. And then another.