If you’re anything like me, I tell people things.
I used to pretend that I was always okay. So nobody would know what was actually happening in my marriage or my head.
But then I started to be honest.
My honesty was not a cry for help though
I’m honest with people so I can be honest with myself. So I can work through feelings and emotions. So I can confide in someone that will protect my heart.
I don’t confide in someone to fix me. I don’t want you to give me advice.
I want you to hear me say that I’m broken. That I’m numb. That I’m hurting. That I’m frustrated. That I’m mad.
And I just want you to sit there and listen.
Look at me and not feel pity.
Feeling the realness of life does not mean you’re weak. It does not mean people should look at you and think lesser of you.
I just want you to be present with me. Not thinking of all the ways you can pray for me or all the things you should say to make it better. Because you won’t. Or all the ways that you feel sorry for me. Or how things should be.
Be there for me in the darkness. Hear me speak. Hear me cry. Make me feel safe enough to sit in your presence, in the quiet, in the tears, in the truth.
I know that this time will not last forever. I know Jesus is pursuing me, HARD. He has an army coming after me. Maybe you’re part of it?
I need you to offer to do my dishes. Watch my kids so I can go read in quiet. Bring me coffee. Look at my four-kids-uniform and smile at it with admiration, not self-righteousness.
There will be a time, or there was a time in your life, where you need/needed the same things. And one thing you don’t want to see is someone look at you and think “you poor thing.”
I need you to look at me and think,
“You are a warrior. You are one of the strongest. You are special. You are amazing. I see your strength. I see your steadfastness. I see your faith. I see your spirit. I see your gifts and talents. I see your hope. I SEE YOU.”
And if you don’t see those things, then I ask that you pray for you to see them. But don’t come over until you do.