Ephesians 4:1-2 "...I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love."
I'm already regretting writing these posts.
As I sit here praying over why,
I already know the answer.
Fear.
There.
I said it.
I'm scared.
Afraid of offending someone,
saying the wrong thing,
or simply not conveying what I want to say.
Give me a task, a job, a complex legal issue, advocating for a client;
add solid research, coffee and a forum for debate;
and I'm alive.
It's the lifeblood of who I am.
It's the cape I wrap around my shoulders in order to hide the insecurities;
the achievement badge that adorns my life's sash of meritorious attributes.
While I fail at almost everything else, being at my place,
in God's universe,
making succinct data of the chaos is salve to my heart.
And reminds me that at least, here,
I am not a total failure.
And for the rest of who I am, hope to be and was in the future,
it's covered in caution tape.
Because there is fear.
I think it is the best lie that the Devil ever spun.
He can apply it to so many things with us, ladies.
With his snarky laugh he reminds us
You won't be friends if she knows _____________ about you.
She'll never understand that you don't have it all together.
Don't be yourself, just follow everything that she does.
Blah. Blah.Blah.
Excuse.
Excuse.
Excuse.
And it keeps us from each other.
From growing and learning through one another.
And we know better.
I'm reading Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller.
There is a scene where Don moves into a house with 6 dudes to experience community.
I cringed while I read, because being locked in a house
with 6 other women might as well be torture for me.
No thanks, I'll take Water boarding for 200 Alex.
Why?
Fear.
Fear of being judged, unliked, not having it all together or knowing that the facade that you have sewn is just a cape your wrap around yourself to hide your insecurities.
I think the older we get, the more activities our children have
and the more "stuff" we pack in our days, we lose the ability to smile to the mom in the car pool line, ask our daycare worker how today REALLY was or seek out a woman we know could use an ear and a cup of coffee.
I think that while Don's experience in Blue Like Jazz is a great example of community,
I don't believe community is only experienced in our houses.
I think it's experienced in our hearts.
So why do I fear letting a girlfriend really know me?
My top three would have to be:
1.) Having someone know how guilty I feel certain days for being a working mom.
2.) Sharing that I struggle daily to follow Christ.
3.) Discovering how true community might shake me from my comfortable cape of selfishness.
So here's to putting aside the fear, and getting messy with one another.
I encourage you this week to put aside the fear of engaging in a new relationship this week and re-set that coffee date (Layla, name the time and place), stop just a little longer to talk and seek community with a fellow sister.
