So a couple of weeks ago a good friend sent me a text--it hurt and it made me angry. I didn't respond.
I know this person. I love this person. And I know to the depths of my being this person would never try to hurt me, which didn't change how hurt I was. The next day I received an apology, and we talked. We're over it (seriously, I'm just using this as a springboard--we really are). I understood how it was meant, the person understood how I took it, and we're all good.
I thought I would use it someday in a sermon or a blog post as an example of why person to person communication is best. I thought I would use it as an example of how texts, emails, social media posts can all be misinterpreted. Apparently, God had other plans. Foiled again!
Let me back up a little. In 2004 another person said some really horrible things to me. I mean really horrible things. I was completely shaken. I walked (barely) into our parish and my good friend made the mistake of saying, "Hey," she's southern too, "How are you?" I burst into tears. We went into the stairwell where I could hide. She held me as I sobbed because what had been said shook me to my core. It attacked my identity. It attacked my deepest fears that I wasn't enough. It made me question my ability to be a wife and mother, the two things I wanted to be good at more than anything in the world. When I calmed down my friend took both my hands into hers and said these words which have served me well through the years, "Katherine, what she said was not true. IT'S. NOT. TRUE. But do this, think to yourself, is there even an ounce of truth somewhere in it or is there anything you can learn from it? Take that and leave the rest. Let it go." Now I know that is easier said than done--trust me. But several weeks ago I returned to that advice, and I knew there was some truth in what my friend had texted. Recognizing that has greatly helped me over the last few weeks.
But we're still not to the point of this post....
This morning I read two devotional emails as I do every morning. One is from the Center for Action and Contemplation written by Richard Rohr, and the other from the Henri Nouwen Society. Something that has been rolling around in my mind stopped rolling and took root. These are excerpts of what was written and why I am now writing.
When we are hurt, we want to hurt back. When we are put down, we want to put down the opponent. This is our ego’s natural defense mechanism. We all move toward the ego, and we even solidify it as we get older if something doesn’t expose it for the lie that it is—not because it is bad, but because it thinks it is the whole and only thing! We change from inside—from the power position to the position of vulnerability and solidarity, which gradually changes everything. Richard Rohr
It is amazing in my own life that true friendship and community became possible to the degree that I was able to share my weaknesses with others. Often I became aware of the fact that in the sharing of my weaknesses with others, the real depths of my human brokenness and weakness and sinfulness started to reveal themselves to me, not as a source of despair but as a source of hope. As long as I try to convince myself or others of my independence, a lot of my energy is invested in building up my own false self. But once I am able to truly confess my most profound dependence on others and on God, I can come in touch with my true self and real community can develop. Henri Nouwen
Some of you who haven't known me for more than a decade might call bull sh*t on this (just like when I announced I was a tomboy growing up in my sermon yesterday). But this is true. I spent years and years turning myself inside out trying to "be" something I thought my family and the world wanted me to be. I only let my "best" self be seen. I cared deeply about what people thought of me and tried to become whatever it was I thought would make sure people liked me. I pretended I had it all together when my world was falling apart. I grew so good at pretending I lost who I was. The start (but it took A LOT longer) to get there was during a phone call in Athens during the early 2000's --remember the glasshouse dream, Gillian?
Anyway, I worked hard. And I began to like myself--not everything about myself--but more than enough. I became open and vulnerable. I shared myself with others--not just my staged selfies (oh there are some of them) but my whole self--my fears, my insecurities, my doubts as well as my joys. And you know what happened? People liked me; people related to me; friends I didn't know how much I loved or needed returned to my life. I became part of a community of people who love me (or at least like me) despite or maybe because of my weakness and brokenness.
Okay, I'm getting to the point...
Sharing and being vulnerable became who I am--or rather I returned to who I was. Is it easy? HELL NO! I leave myself open to all kinds of hurt and exposure--and let's be honest I leave my family open as well. My friend from way up in the first paragraph--that person hit on one of my biggest insecurities--not being organized and efficient enough. Not doing enough, being enough. That's why the person apologized. Because that wasn't what was meant but the person knew after looking at it that's how I would take it because that person knows my triggers, my insecurities, my vulnerable self.
I also know that leaving myself wide open allows people who don't like me (and let's be honest we all know there are plenty of those and that's okay--I don't like everyone either) with LOTS of ammunition.
Shortly after I was named Rector of St. Thomas, I received an anonymous four-page typed letter actually addressed to St. Thomas, detailing in great detail why I wasn't worthy to be the Rector of this amazing community--how I was going to destroy this community. The person hit on almost EVERY ONE of my insecurities. I told very few people. My amazing Bishop told me to burn it and delete every single copy because we don't deal with "anonymous." I did--remember I'm a rule follower, but the truth is those words are burned into my memory. I'm not writing this because that coward got to me; I'm writing it because that coward made me stronger. I remembered the words of my friend all those years ago in Pittsburgh, and his (yep I'm pretty sure I know who it is) made me a BETTER priest, a BETTER friend, a BETTER mother; a BETTER wife, and you know why? Because I refused to stop being real, to stop being open, to stop being vulnerable, to stop loving no matter what. Do the words still hurt? Absolutely. Are there times I even believe them? Yep. But with the help of my husband, a few close friends, my senior warden, and my Bishop, I took that power back. In the words of Eliza Hamilton, "I'm erasing myself from the narrative." I'm living into these words.
"It is amazing in my own life that true friendship and community became possible to the degree that I was able to share my weaknesses with others. Often I became aware of the fact that in the sharing of my weaknesses with others, the real depths of my human brokenness and weakness and sinfulness started to reveal themselves to me, not as a source of despair but as a source of hope"
You (and read that generically not just for that one letter) can take my words, twist them, and use them against me. You can use my words to try to wound me. But you don't get to decide whether I'm enough. You don't get to decide whether what I share is too much or not enough. You don't get to decide what I share or how I share it. I love my life; I love the people I've connected with and the people I will connect with; I love the stories people share with me; I love there are people who will struggle with me, challenge me and love me no matter what BECAUSE of my oversharing and vulnerability. I get to write myself back into the narrative of my life.
Yep I'll continue to hurt--I know that's true, but I'll take it. I hurt but I also get to see beauty. I get to share in other stories of pain and beauty. I get to finally be okay with who God intended me to be. I get to see the beauty of the world. So yeah, I win--well okay not me, well kind of me, but really, God, God wins. And always will.
*and I understand if you want to unfriend, unfollow, or block me. Everyone needs to live their own truth.
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