If you ask me how I'm doing and I say "fine," I am telling the truth. Most days I am happy. I'm in love with my husband, I feel good about my parenting and enjoy my children, I try to keep my focus on being grateful for what I have rather than focusing on what I don't. Most days I say to myself "I love my life."
But sometimes, I find myself feeling the pain of my brokenness and I am pretty good at telling the truth then too. If my marriage hits a rough patch, I'll ask for prayer. If I feel like I've failed my kids or messed up with a friend, I'll apologize and I acknowledge that sometimes discontent gets the better of me. I do not hide my brokennes or shame myself for it. I allow myself to feel it, to examine it, to express it and to deal with it. I'm pretty much as open with my failings as with my wins. It is one of the things my closest friends appreciate about me. I know because they've said so. It's also one of the things that drives other people away from me. I know because they've said so, too. I'm okay with that. I know who I am, how I come across and have felt the pleasure and pain of being myself.
A couple of weeks ago I made the choice to share a bit of my brokenness on my personal Facebook page. I expressed the defeat and loneliness I feel when I think about how long I've been trying to find relationship inside my church. I publicly stated that I wonder if I need to start over someplace else. I was not prepared for some of the reactions to that post, and ended up failing myself by succumbing to the pressure of the discomfort someone else felt by my truth. I took the post down.
After a short conversation with someone who saw the post and called, a conversation about how I feel, what I've tried to overcome it, and admitting that I still have some "try" left in me, I felt like, "okay, I'll give it another go." And then I was hit with this statement, "I mean how does it look for an elder's wife to..." I realized then that the conversation wasn't about my pain, but about their fear of my openness. After our conversation, my husband was also called too. I got told on to my husband. And the same thing was said to him, "how does it look for an elder's wife to..."
As an elder's wife, I took the post down, but as a member of the church who has heard and believes in the numerous messages I've listened to from stages and pulpits about the importance of transparency, vulnerability, and being real with our stuff, I feel betrayed.
The very next Sunday the message preached was about joy, and part of this message spoke about the church supposedly being a place where it's ok to not be ok, where it's ok to be sad, lonely, frustrated, have questions or concerns, etc. And I sat in the pew and thought, "as long as you're not an elder's wife."
Here's the thing, I know that's not true. I know that when it comes to Christ, pastors and their families, church staff and their families, elders and their wives are people too. So not only do I feel betrayed by that caller and any of the other people who've handed me or my husband shame because of that post, I feel betrayed by myself for receiving it and taking the post down. For even now, allowing shame to make me afraid of finishing this post and publishing it on my blog or sharing it online.
I will post it, and I will own it, and then I will move on to focus on the hope that also came out of the other responses to that deleted post. The people who reached out and in their words or actions said, I hear you and feel you, rather than I hear you and don't want anyone else to.
But sometimes, I find myself feeling the pain of my brokenness and I am pretty good at telling the truth then too. If my marriage hits a rough patch, I'll ask for prayer. If I feel like I've failed my kids or messed up with a friend, I'll apologize and I acknowledge that sometimes discontent gets the better of me. I do not hide my brokennes or shame myself for it. I allow myself to feel it, to examine it, to express it and to deal with it. I'm pretty much as open with my failings as with my wins. It is one of the things my closest friends appreciate about me. I know because they've said so. It's also one of the things that drives other people away from me. I know because they've said so, too. I'm okay with that. I know who I am, how I come across and have felt the pleasure and pain of being myself.
A couple of weeks ago I made the choice to share a bit of my brokenness on my personal Facebook page. I expressed the defeat and loneliness I feel when I think about how long I've been trying to find relationship inside my church. I publicly stated that I wonder if I need to start over someplace else. I was not prepared for some of the reactions to that post, and ended up failing myself by succumbing to the pressure of the discomfort someone else felt by my truth. I took the post down.
After a short conversation with someone who saw the post and called, a conversation about how I feel, what I've tried to overcome it, and admitting that I still have some "try" left in me, I felt like, "okay, I'll give it another go." And then I was hit with this statement, "I mean how does it look for an elder's wife to..." I realized then that the conversation wasn't about my pain, but about their fear of my openness. After our conversation, my husband was also called too. I got told on to my husband. And the same thing was said to him, "how does it look for an elder's wife to..."
As an elder's wife, I took the post down, but as a member of the church who has heard and believes in the numerous messages I've listened to from stages and pulpits about the importance of transparency, vulnerability, and being real with our stuff, I feel betrayed.
The very next Sunday the message preached was about joy, and part of this message spoke about the church supposedly being a place where it's ok to not be ok, where it's ok to be sad, lonely, frustrated, have questions or concerns, etc. And I sat in the pew and thought, "as long as you're not an elder's wife."
Here's the thing, I know that's not true. I know that when it comes to Christ, pastors and their families, church staff and their families, elders and their wives are people too. So not only do I feel betrayed by that caller and any of the other people who've handed me or my husband shame because of that post, I feel betrayed by myself for receiving it and taking the post down. For even now, allowing shame to make me afraid of finishing this post and publishing it on my blog or sharing it online.
I will post it, and I will own it, and then I will move on to focus on the hope that also came out of the other responses to that deleted post. The people who reached out and in their words or actions said, I hear you and feel you, rather than I hear you and don't want anyone else to.
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