The Long Lonely Road of Reconciliation

Friday morning I woke up with an emotional hangover. The night before I had a

difficult conversation with someone I love dearly. The truth is this was one of several difficult conversations I have had over the past several weeks with people I love. I knew these conversations would shift our relationship, and I didn't know how. I didn't know if the relationships would be strengthened (my hope) because of our honesty with each other or if there would be a permanent fissure that would color the relationship for weeks, months, years, or forever. I knew I had to get a long run on the beach. I decided to run barefoot--I have always loved that.

Fast forward two miles....

My feet were in agony. There were blisters on the outside of both my heels. I slowed down to a walk. I tried walking in the soft sand. I tried walking in the packed sand. I tried walking in the water. They hurt no matter what. Tears were streaming down my face as I realized there was nothing I could do but walk back. I was at the beach alone. There was no one to call. I had to walk through the pain, and I had to do it alone.

As I painfully walked down the beach I thought about the difficult, honest conversations and the people with whom I had them. I started thinking about what I could do to just "fix" it all--what could I do to make things go back to "normal" and to what was comfortable. The truth is, that's my go-to. Send flowers, bake cookies, take someone out to eat--do whatever to placate, to bandaid, to return to comfort. I don't like the uncertainty. And it's terrifying to think about losing a relationship that is so important to me.

I also knew there was no glossing over any of these conversations. They had happened. They needed to happen. There was a combination of hurt and anger and truth-telling, vulnerability, and authenticity. 

As I was walking and praying and let's be honest crying, I received a text from a dear friend who knew about some of the conversations. She sent me a text that said (roughly), "I just want you to know as you're walking this path you have friends walking with you." I literally stopped and sat right down in the sand.

As my feet throbbed and I re-read the text from my friend, this is what I realized. I set out running barefoot, but I was not used to running barefoot. My feet had yet to develop that walking on the beach toughness I have had before. Over the following week they might get more used to it, but at this point, it just hurt, and there was nothing I could do but walk back, through the pain, and I had to do it alone.

I thought about the conversations and how uncomfortable I was because I was so uncertain about how the relationships were going to change because of them. It was hard. I wasn't used to letting things be. It was painful and scary, but it was something I needed to do--I wasn't used to it and it was uncomfortable. Frankly, it hurt like hell (just like my feet) and scared me to death. 

And I thought about my friend's text. She acknowledged I had to walk this journey. She didn't give me ways to get out of it or even take it over. Just like my walk down the beach. I know I have people who love me, support me, and pray for me, and I know through these people and through my faith, God walks with me. But the truth is, at times, it is still lonely, and it still hurts. And I'd rather find someone to carry me. 

Relationships go through hard times. Deep relationships, authentic relationships, don't ignore the hard stuff--the conversations, the offering of other perspectives. (yeah, three other friends reminded me of that Saturday night) And when these times happen, complete reconciliation is what we, what I want. Guess what? To have reconciliation, there has to be an acknowledgment there was a breakdown in the relationship and because of that the relationship has changed. I think true reconciliation comes when we each do our work, when we each own our part, when we each think about the relationship and how we move forward. Reconciliation comes between 2 people or groups of people, but first you have to walk alone.