I was driving with one of my uncles the other day and he mentioned how he reads my posts once in awhile (hi to you because you know exactly who you are ;) hehe), I was surprised at what a good conversation piece it made! I didn’t realize that my vulnerability could be an opening to a deep conversation. Honestly I was a little caught off guard with the whole thing, but inwardly I was pleased.
Vulnerability is something I’m actually a little bit scared of. Having been told off enough times by the adult world that I had to much energy, was to daring and was disrespectful from things I'd do, write and post on social media, that it pretty much made me want to crawl into a hole and hide from life, which is no exaggeration. Very honestly I felt like no one liked me for who I was sometimes. The only person that would listen to me and respect my ideas and encourage me it seemed at times, was my dad. Sometimes knowing that him and Jesus loved me for me was the only thing that got me through a day.
Now that the whole world can know this I feel especially vulnerable.
I am constantly reminded that there is nothing that we can go through, nothing that we can feel that Jesus hasn’t already felt or gone through. Knowing that He is a gentle father to His children is a heartwarming thought to me. He has had to give me the wisdom and knowledge that my mother would’ve given me. He has had to hold me when I cry because my mother isn’t there to know what’s going on in my head. So when I’m feeling beaten down by comments from people or things people have done to me I am comforted by the thought that it’s nothing that Jesus doesn’t know.
It’s no secret that my life isn’t… um….. normal; by whatever standards your normal life would look like, I don’t live it. I inherited my Mom’s reputation for being a bit of a rebel and tomboy; if I want to be a tomboy. Which reminds me of a story about my Mom:
[Keep in mind this happened many years ago and I have changed names for obvious reasons.]
I was going through an old desk of my Mom’s when I found a note. It actually looked fairly new and was folded in half. I opened it and read a full and expressive letter of hate and spite all geared towards my Mom! I was inwardly shaken at what I read! As my eyes darted back and forth over the obviously hastily scrawled words I’m sure my eyes got bigger and bigger. I put the letter on the desk and stared straight ahead. How could someone say such things to my Mom! Gripping the letter in my hands and walked upstairs to the kitchen debating whether or not to let Mom know I had found the letter. She was alone making supper so I decided to bring it up. “Mom do you remember this letter from Sue?” Mom looked at it and her face visibly saddened as she scanned the letter. “Yes I remember this. Where did you find it?” “In a drawer in your old desk.” “I see. Regan never let any kind of hate from man stop you from doing what you know is a calling from God.” I nodded looking at her but then inquired “How could you take that and still be nice to her?! Weren’t you two best friends at one point in time?!” “Yes we were really close. I choose to forgive first because God has commanded that we forgive those who persecute us, but second I forgive and don’t hold offence because Sue phoned me a few days after this arrived in the mail in tears asking me to forgive her.”
From that childhood memory I understand a few things.
Don’t expect people to be vulnerable with you if you aren’t vulnerable with them.