I was recently having dinner with a neighbor. We’re trying to get to know one another better. We attend the same church, but she’s over ten years younger than I (I think), and we hardly cross paths in our fairly large congregation.
It’s a shame. Here we are…living right next to each other, but not growing closer due to the different demands made on us from our varied stages of life.
But we’re trying to bridge the gap—a good thing.
And even though she seems to be handling it with grace…the only problem I foresee for Marianne, my sweet neighbor, may be my natural bent toward candor. It’s probably pretty surprising, possibly even alarming, for those who don’t know me well.
I mean, I really don’t do small talk (at least not proficiently), and, to be frank, it bores me to tears.
I don’t have much to say about the weather other than something innocuous like, “Man, it’s hot today, huh?”
I was long ago disillusioned by politics, and most media-worthy current events are scary or depressing.
Furthermore and to be frank, I don’t give a flippity-flop Brad and Angie are finally getting married (Okay, okay. I did take a peek at the ring while standing in line for groceries. Gee thanks, ‘People’ Magazine.).
So I automatically come to the relational table a little unbuttoned, a circumstance possibly unsettling for any newbies who may encounter me.
Plus my mind tends to wander a bit, and I usually talk in stories not sentences. In my defense, the stories usually have a point if I can still remember it by the end. Nonetheless and just to give you an example, you could tell me you cooked rice for dinner which might trigger a memory of the first time I ever had Chinese food with my good friends from Fort Worth…
You get the picture, right?
It used to bother me that I shared a little too open and freely, and I didn’t understand why God made me without the caution or secrecy switch so many seem to use with such adroitness. I mean, it’s not like I spill everything…but I am pretty up-front and honest.
And I feel, in the past, it’s sometimes made those around me a little uncomfortable…or it’s given them perceived power over me which has made me uncomfortable. It’s a risk!!
However, over the last few years, I’ve learned to be content with the fact God has gifted me with openness. I think it’s because He’s also given me a great desire to relate to people on a deeper level.
It’s almost as if it’s something I must do-I’m not sure why exactly, but the good news is I may be beginning to understand it a little more.
For example, I’m part of a small ladies’ Bible study group, and one of my fellow participants said to me very directly one day she wishes she could be more open like I am. And, I’m not for sure, but I think she’s already begun to be a little more transparent by sharing prayer requests she might’ve normally kept to herself.
So maybe, just maybe, my openness may inspire (if even a little) a few other people to be brave enough to go and talk to those they encounter in an authentic way.
Because how can we even begin to relate to and help each other if we’re hiding all the life lessons gained throughout our years?
How can people know there’s hope for change or improvement if we don’t share our ongoing spiritual growth?
How can people know they should seek help if they think they’re the only ones who’ve been through a difficult, sad or tragic situation?
And, lastly, how can people create genuine friendships if they feel they have to be emotionally ‘alone’ to survive?
All these questions tumble through my mind.
I guess I’ll risk people looking down on me, even if I’m only able to help one person, because they’re the person God designed me to help.
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