From Jan to Dean, upon a very bad night of arguments.
Rough draft #2
We knew the war was looming off in the distance
Under a blood-tinted sunset.
We knew it was inevitable--we would have to fight.
Neither of us are skilled warriors in this kind of battle--
The kind where you fight those who know you
The kind where you can lose more than you could ever gain
The kind where hiding until the rage storm blows over is more desirable than ever.
Afraid and hopeful that there would come a new solution
A way to avoid the war
To escape unscathed
We worked hard behind the lines
Prayed
And kept our silence.
There comes a time, though,
When the enemy senses your position;
Keeping still and silent will not save you from being surrounded
And with anger, they confront your fearful heart.
I stepped out of the shadows and began to fight
Trying for peace all along
But knowing it wouldn't come until after great struggle and pain.
You were not caught as I
And instead of joining me,
You hid.
You left me alone.
Abandoned, I cried for you
I begged you to come
Begged you to let me run to you.
Together, we are stronger--
Or so I thought
You knew my precarious position
The sharp weapons thrust at me
The wounds already etched into my skin.
A dagger pierced through part of my heart.
My will would keep me in strength for only so long.
Still, you ignored my calls,
Licking your own wounds in a cave of your own making
Barring the door to my entry
And leaving me to the mercy of my foes.
Didn't you understand my vulnerability?
Didn't you see that our bond might be broken?
Didn't you care that I might die?
I survived the night
With God and a few brief moments of comfort
From friends who heard and responded to my cry
Despite their own battles, struggles, and needs.
But they were not my partner,
They were not my teammate.
They tried to take your place,
But no one can fill that spot shaped as you.
I needed you wild at heart
Timid, you left me.
My pain increases
My tears course down swollen cheeks
I cry out to God and run to Him
He comforts me
He didn't leave me
You cried out to me, so
I comforted you,
Cheered your shaken spirit
After my words of warning brought the war to your door.
You revived and began business as usual,
But you didn't note my bloody clothes
Dark skin marking my struggle
And still kept me at a distance
Where I could tend you
But I was left to fend for myself.
I understand why you ran
I still hate that you did
I understand why you didn't see my pain
I still hate that you didn't think to care
I understand your wounds
I still hate that you dismissed mine
Forgiveness will come
But the trust is cracked
The war will not end tomorrow
But before I again engage the enemy
I need to know--
Should I surrender now, let you be alone and accept my fate;
Or will you come rescue me
Fight beside me
And be who I need you to be:
Someone who pursues God's will,
Puts me first (as I do you),
And lets promises be kept
Even in the face of foul fear?
If you want us to continue
If you want me, at all...
Don't leave me again.
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Choosing Sides
A few months I went to a high school basketball tournament at a local school. I followed my fiancee into his alma matter, looking around anxiously for people I might recognize from my own old high school. Our pasts were playing against each other tonight in two games--first girls, then boys. I didn't see anyone I either wanted to greet or drastically avoid, so I just let myself be led through the gym, up really steep steps, and onto an uncomfortable wooden bleacher. My eyes searched for two students I was currently teaching and who would be playing for Brashear--my old high school. I noted my finacee's nieces quickly. One played for Novinger's team and the other shouted encouragements from the sidelines with the other cheerleaders.
As the game started, I spotted the first of my students. She wasn't playing the best game, so I cheered extra loud for her. A few times, the people around me started giving me odd looks, but I assumed it was for being too loud. It wasn't until the second quarter that I realized that my fiancee had seated us not in the "available" side of the gym, but on the Novinger side. I was cheering on a Brashear player. Hello, CONFLICT!
Granted, the few women who were really shooting me dirty looks seemed to understand when I explained my situation--I'm cheering on individual players who are my students, not necessarily the team. They would nod as if thinking Why, yes, that does make sense. She's a teacher--she needs to support her students. I think that cheering for my fiancee's neice on the Novinger team helped.
As the game progressed, though, I found myself grinning when Brashear scored. Novinger seemed disorganized, especially on defense, and I took pride when girls, even the ones I didn't know at all, put more points on Brashear's side of the board. Apparently without realizing it, I had chosen a side despite being very proud and wanting a win for the sole Novinger player I knew.
It may not seem that odd that I picked my alma matter to support to most people...unless you've heard me talk about my experiences in this school. Granted, most of it would boil down to the usual teenage angst present in high schools, but my public school years were almost entirely miserable. A few teachers really inspired me, and not every day was a nightmare, but overall, I would NEVER want to relive a single day of my years at that school. While the school has changed a lot (and I taught there for a semester--talk about a creeptastic moment when I found THAT assignment out), I still get weird feelings every time I drive there, my inner self cringing as the gravel crunches under my tires. What am I doing here again? Are you NUTS?!?! Have you forgotten everything they put you through, how you promised you'd never return? There is nothing for you here--run now while you can!
If I dislike my past so much, and don't hold much faith in the crazy public school system I was brought up in, then why was I rooting for my hometown team? Why do we protect the familiar even when it's not at all good for us? When we're picking sides, are we doing it for the right reasons? Are we defending family members, people from our "hometowns", even though we know they're wrong but we feel like we have to protect "our own?" What kind of damage could this do to those outside our circles of influence...or even those we are standing up for?
I'm still proud of the Brashear girls--they deserved to win that night. They were, simply put, the better team on the court. My fiancee eventually forgave me my slight against his team, mostly because the Novinger boys won the next game and apparently I'm "too darn cute to stay mad at."
As the game started, I spotted the first of my students. She wasn't playing the best game, so I cheered extra loud for her. A few times, the people around me started giving me odd looks, but I assumed it was for being too loud. It wasn't until the second quarter that I realized that my fiancee had seated us not in the "available" side of the gym, but on the Novinger side. I was cheering on a Brashear player. Hello, CONFLICT!
Granted, the few women who were really shooting me dirty looks seemed to understand when I explained my situation--I'm cheering on individual players who are my students, not necessarily the team. They would nod as if thinking Why, yes, that does make sense. She's a teacher--she needs to support her students. I think that cheering for my fiancee's neice on the Novinger team helped.
As the game progressed, though, I found myself grinning when Brashear scored. Novinger seemed disorganized, especially on defense, and I took pride when girls, even the ones I didn't know at all, put more points on Brashear's side of the board. Apparently without realizing it, I had chosen a side despite being very proud and wanting a win for the sole Novinger player I knew.
It may not seem that odd that I picked my alma matter to support to most people...unless you've heard me talk about my experiences in this school. Granted, most of it would boil down to the usual teenage angst present in high schools, but my public school years were almost entirely miserable. A few teachers really inspired me, and not every day was a nightmare, but overall, I would NEVER want to relive a single day of my years at that school. While the school has changed a lot (and I taught there for a semester--talk about a creeptastic moment when I found THAT assignment out), I still get weird feelings every time I drive there, my inner self cringing as the gravel crunches under my tires. What am I doing here again? Are you NUTS?!?! Have you forgotten everything they put you through, how you promised you'd never return? There is nothing for you here--run now while you can!
If I dislike my past so much, and don't hold much faith in the crazy public school system I was brought up in, then why was I rooting for my hometown team? Why do we protect the familiar even when it's not at all good for us? When we're picking sides, are we doing it for the right reasons? Are we defending family members, people from our "hometowns", even though we know they're wrong but we feel like we have to protect "our own?" What kind of damage could this do to those outside our circles of influence...or even those we are standing up for?
I'm still proud of the Brashear girls--they deserved to win that night. They were, simply put, the better team on the court. My fiancee eventually forgave me my slight against his team, mostly because the Novinger boys won the next game and apparently I'm "too darn cute to stay mad at."
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Honesty 101
As someone who works at a highly-regarded university in the Midwest in the Communications department, you would think that I'm a fairly good communicator. Like I teach my students when we cover the communication cycle, there is always interference (otherwise known as "noise") that makes messages garbled, misunderstood, or just plain nonsensical. One form of interference that I have to deal with daily is my poor hearing. I often rhyme out words I hear and it's especially difficult for me to hear well in crowded/noisy rooms. Not being able to understand others, especially when the people around me seem to be doing just fine, annoys me to no end--and I get discouraged, uncomfortable, and tend to withdraw from the group. My problem-solving skills tend to focus on what I can change about myself to work with others, not have others shift to work around me. After all, we're supposed to love our brothers (and sisters) more than ourselves...so wouldn't that mean just dealing with the problems and only focusing on them?
Not exactly. By not communicating my needs, especially ones that aren't that big of an issue (for the most part, no one would begrudge me asking for us to move to a quieter spot. After all, if I can better listen to them, then I can minister to them more--it becomes a win-win situation for all.), I'm only hurting myself and my friends/family. Ignoring my needs and emotions will only poison my time with these wonderful people and make me less of a good support for them. I have to be brave enough to ask for help and prayer with my own issues...and be honest about what's really going on.
The big issue? Fear. I'm afraid I'll lose my friends, my family, because I'm too needy or demanding or something like that. After all, it's happened before. By not being honest, though, I'm not encouraging a real relationship with these people--just empty or superficial shells of friendship and fellowship where I can't trust the person (and maybe the God within) with my vulnerabilities. A recent two-day talk with a very close friend about some serious miscommunications really drove this point home. I was so afraid of hurting her (because I knew how sensitive she was) so I didn't confront her appropriately with the results of some of her actions. Instead, I hid the pain and the discomfort, pretending to be my usual bubbly self. When I got to the point where I couldn't hide anymore, I nearly washed my hands of the relationship and ran away. Part of it was because I couldn't bear to witness the effects of my words on her. Part of it was because I didn't know how to tell her that I was angry and felt like I couldn't trust her sometimes. She meant (and still does mean) so much to me that I didn't want to risk losing her, but as I've learned recently, it's not a bad thing to be angry. Anger is a positive emotion--it's what you do with it (kill, vandalize, hide in the corner) that makes it a negative thing. After all, even the only perfect man who ever lived got angry (John 2:13-22). We did talk things out, and while I never expressed my feelings of betrayal, I think she got the point. If she didn't...I'll soon know.
Jesus commanded us to love one another (John 13:34). Part of love is being honest (1 Cor. 13:6). We can't hide behind fear and think our silence and crossed fingers will make everything better eventually. We have to be brave.
Not exactly. By not communicating my needs, especially ones that aren't that big of an issue (for the most part, no one would begrudge me asking for us to move to a quieter spot. After all, if I can better listen to them, then I can minister to them more--it becomes a win-win situation for all.), I'm only hurting myself and my friends/family. Ignoring my needs and emotions will only poison my time with these wonderful people and make me less of a good support for them. I have to be brave enough to ask for help and prayer with my own issues...and be honest about what's really going on.
The big issue? Fear. I'm afraid I'll lose my friends, my family, because I'm too needy or demanding or something like that. After all, it's happened before. By not being honest, though, I'm not encouraging a real relationship with these people--just empty or superficial shells of friendship and fellowship where I can't trust the person (and maybe the God within) with my vulnerabilities. A recent two-day talk with a very close friend about some serious miscommunications really drove this point home. I was so afraid of hurting her (because I knew how sensitive she was) so I didn't confront her appropriately with the results of some of her actions. Instead, I hid the pain and the discomfort, pretending to be my usual bubbly self. When I got to the point where I couldn't hide anymore, I nearly washed my hands of the relationship and ran away. Part of it was because I couldn't bear to witness the effects of my words on her. Part of it was because I didn't know how to tell her that I was angry and felt like I couldn't trust her sometimes. She meant (and still does mean) so much to me that I didn't want to risk losing her, but as I've learned recently, it's not a bad thing to be angry. Anger is a positive emotion--it's what you do with it (kill, vandalize, hide in the corner) that makes it a negative thing. After all, even the only perfect man who ever lived got angry (John 2:13-22). We did talk things out, and while I never expressed my feelings of betrayal, I think she got the point. If she didn't...I'll soon know.
Jesus commanded us to love one another (John 13:34). Part of love is being honest (1 Cor. 13:6). We can't hide behind fear and think our silence and crossed fingers will make everything better eventually. We have to be brave.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Do Not Cross This Line
Any relationship has boundaries. There are a list of things you can and cannot do and say. For one of my clients to hug me would cross a boundary of professionalism, but not so with one of the little tykes I watch in the nursery at church. I know better than to go on and on about my thoughts on faith with one of my friends who is an athiest, but I can remark on the Bible as much as I like with my best friends. I can talk about sex and romance with my friends but not with my parents (ew!). Boundaries establish comfort zones, protect us from harm, and allow us to get along.
When boundaries are crossed, even inadvertently, big problems can result. I set up boundaries with a new friend of mine and he crossed the line. He didn't mean anything malicious by it at all--just a simple lapse in judgment. To be fair, I wasn't guarding the boundaries as well as I should have. Still, when that line was crossed, the reaction was strong. Fear, pain, anger, and sadness roiled inside me. I ended up crying and even briefly snapping at my friend before controlling my temper and trying to talk out the situation. When I realized how hurt he was, I felt guilty for my responses and buried the emotions, distracting myself and him.
Problem was, I didn't deal with the issues of a boundary being crossed--I just repressed it. It took a while the next day, with a good Christian female friend, to talk out the problem, see where I overreacted, understand how I was projecting past experiences onto this one (thus not seeing things reasonably or logically), and get my bearings back. I had to forgive my friend for doing what he did, especially since he apologized. I had to forgive myself for not guarding my boundaries. I had to remember that God forgave me, too. Knowing that things would still be ok, even better than ok, once I dealt with the emotions helped so much. Still, picking up the pieces is hard.
There's a phrase I hear every now and then: I forgive but I never forget. It often struck me as a contradiction, but there is a seed of truth in there. We do need to forgive, but we also can't forget the lesson learned. When that boundary was crossed, it hurt. Therefore, instead of putting ourselves in situations where those lines could be crossed again, we need to protect ourselves--not because we don't trust the other person(s), but because it's the best thing for everyone involved.
When boundaries are crossed, even inadvertently, big problems can result. I set up boundaries with a new friend of mine and he crossed the line. He didn't mean anything malicious by it at all--just a simple lapse in judgment. To be fair, I wasn't guarding the boundaries as well as I should have. Still, when that line was crossed, the reaction was strong. Fear, pain, anger, and sadness roiled inside me. I ended up crying and even briefly snapping at my friend before controlling my temper and trying to talk out the situation. When I realized how hurt he was, I felt guilty for my responses and buried the emotions, distracting myself and him.
Problem was, I didn't deal with the issues of a boundary being crossed--I just repressed it. It took a while the next day, with a good Christian female friend, to talk out the problem, see where I overreacted, understand how I was projecting past experiences onto this one (thus not seeing things reasonably or logically), and get my bearings back. I had to forgive my friend for doing what he did, especially since he apologized. I had to forgive myself for not guarding my boundaries. I had to remember that God forgave me, too. Knowing that things would still be ok, even better than ok, once I dealt with the emotions helped so much. Still, picking up the pieces is hard.
There's a phrase I hear every now and then: I forgive but I never forget. It often struck me as a contradiction, but there is a seed of truth in there. We do need to forgive, but we also can't forget the lesson learned. When that boundary was crossed, it hurt. Therefore, instead of putting ourselves in situations where those lines could be crossed again, we need to protect ourselves--not because we don't trust the other person(s), but because it's the best thing for everyone involved.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Untitled Poem II
It has been cast away
So it says
He will never remember
So it says
The sea has swallowed the shame, the pain, never to resurface
So it says
So why can't I forgive myself?
So it says
He will never remember
So it says
The sea has swallowed the shame, the pain, never to resurface
So it says
So why can't I forgive myself?
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Collapsed Children
You commanded us to forgive
Seventy times Seven
You commanded us to love them
As we love ourselves
And yet our neighbors stand out in the cold
Waiting
For an open door
We've heard the sermons preached from
Pulpits
Desks
Doors
Remember we are sinful creatures!
Repent ye unworthy!
Remember Who must save you!
And we wonder why He would want to.
We have closed our hearts full of pains
We have closed our eyes full of tears
We have closed our minds full of fears
We have closed our hands full of chains
We fall.
Seventy times Seven
You commanded us to love them
As we love ourselves
And yet our neighbors stand out in the cold
Waiting
For an open door
We've heard the sermons preached from
Pulpits
Desks
Doors
Remember we are sinful creatures!
Repent ye unworthy!
Remember Who must save you!
And we wonder why He would want to.
We have closed our hearts full of pains
We have closed our eyes full of tears
We have closed our minds full of fears
We have closed our hands full of chains
We fall.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
490 and counting...
We all know this woman. The one who keeps us up at night. The one who keeps us ripping out our hair in frustration (and Rogaine ain't cheap, babe). The one who makes, quite honestly, the dumbest mistakes and can't seem to see the obvious warning signs ahead of her that this is NOT A GOOD IDEA. She's the one who even drags us into her problems without our knowledge until one day the phone rings... She's a good friend, or at least used to be.
She was my best friend.
I don't quite understand what happened to this girl I knew. She was my rock when I hit sub-bottom in life. She listened and cared and prayed and got me back on track. Once I was healthy, I noticed her sliding and desperately tried to pull her up. I bailed her out. I kept her secrets. I gave her gentle scoldings while still nodding, yeah, I know. I watched as she completely blew up her life, time and time again, for no real reason while denying that she was ever in trouble. At that point, all I could do was watch. She wouldn't let me guide her and I can't save her, just like she couldn't save me. She had to make that decision to save herself.
Time went on, she moved out of town to just over an hour away, and it seemed that after a few rocky starts that things were finally on the rise for her. Yeah, it wasn't her ideal picture of the world, but she was making progress (at least as much as she would admit to on the phone). She made new friends, got involved with a community, and left me behind. In a way, I understood. Long-distance relationships were never my strong point, either. We still chatted occasionally on the phone and kept in touch via Facebook (thank you to that mysterious college student creator--you have no idea what you have done for my social life). I kept up with her as best I could, which isn't easy when I'm working two jobs and returning phone calls was never her strong suit (especially with creditors bugging her for money--but that's a story for another day).
My current struggle with her is one that I'm not sue how to negotiate. The short version goes like this: one of my favorite living authors was visiting her town for a special speaking engagement, the kind of thing that happens once in a blue moon. She promised to get us tickets as part of her "repay me" fund. It would be a bonding event for the both of us, the first time we would have spent significant time together in person in months. It meant the world to me--what could be greater than a public reading and my best friend?
I knew money was an issue so I offered to buy the tickets. No, it's my treat for you, she said. You can pay me back--I just want to make sure we get them before they sell out. Nope, I got it under control. Four months before the reading, it seemed that way--and before I knew it she told me she bought two tickets, balcony seating. Wahoo!
I found out a few weeks ago that the reading was sold-out, and upon touching base with my friend she seemed confused. Apparently she had lied (deliberately or not, I'm not entirely sure) and hadn't bought the tickets. No worries, though--she'd take care of everything.
You know where this is going, right? I spent the night of the reading alone, at home, grading papers while many of my other friends and classmates got to hear my favorite author in person. Everyone was chattering excitedly about it today, thanking me for bringing the event to their attention. I felt betrayed.
If my friend had just been honest, or responsible, I would have had a great time with her last night. She knew what going to that reading meant to me. It wasn't so much missing the event that bugged me. It was that she hadn't taken the time to make room for me in her life. If it was money, she could have asked and I would have had absolutely no qualms or judgments about paying. Instead, I have no clue what she did that night, but I know it wasn't with me. I wasn't important enough for her to take the time or energy to spend less than two minutes on a website and buy tickets. Our friendship wasn't worth the $70 I would have happily spent on seats. Our years of supporting each other as best we could added up to no communication and half-truths. In the end, all I get is a confused reply to my text this morning, wondering how I didn't know that we weren't going.
Making friends, especially close Christian female friends, in this world is pretty tough. We should hold on to the ones we have, forgiving 70 x 7 as Jesus said (although the implication was more unconditional than numerical). Forgiveness means working past the hurt feelings. Forgiveness means being honest that there were hurt feelings. Forgiveness means challenging yourself and the friend to work on the hiccups in the road.
I have a German-Austrian heritage and temper, which means we have a long fuse, blow hard, but blow over quickly. Within a day or two I'll have calmed down and forgiven her. What won't happen overnight is trust. Her behavior as of last year had decimated a lot of the trust between us, and this latest issue crushed most of the remaining bits. I keep asking myself why this happened, what went wrong, what I should have done, just how far I feel like I can trust her now--and I'm telling you that it's not very far. I wanted to believe in her again. I wanted to use this great event to springboard reclaiming lost ground between us. I feel as though I got her answer--silence, and then the usual plea for infinite forgiveness. And she wonders why I don't trust her. Sometimes "sorry" just isn't enough.
Trust is vital to healthy relationships. We trust God to care for us, and therfore don't worry as much (theoretically). We need to trust each other, and care well for that trust, in order to thrive as sisters-in-Christ. After forgiveness comes prayer again--this time to build up trust and start over...seventy times seven. This week, let's pray for the wisdom to rebuild broken walls and set solid foundations. In an increasingly secular world, can we really afford to lose much more ground?
She was my best friend.
I don't quite understand what happened to this girl I knew. She was my rock when I hit sub-bottom in life. She listened and cared and prayed and got me back on track. Once I was healthy, I noticed her sliding and desperately tried to pull her up. I bailed her out. I kept her secrets. I gave her gentle scoldings while still nodding, yeah, I know. I watched as she completely blew up her life, time and time again, for no real reason while denying that she was ever in trouble. At that point, all I could do was watch. She wouldn't let me guide her and I can't save her, just like she couldn't save me. She had to make that decision to save herself.
Time went on, she moved out of town to just over an hour away, and it seemed that after a few rocky starts that things were finally on the rise for her. Yeah, it wasn't her ideal picture of the world, but she was making progress (at least as much as she would admit to on the phone). She made new friends, got involved with a community, and left me behind. In a way, I understood. Long-distance relationships were never my strong point, either. We still chatted occasionally on the phone and kept in touch via Facebook (thank you to that mysterious college student creator--you have no idea what you have done for my social life). I kept up with her as best I could, which isn't easy when I'm working two jobs and returning phone calls was never her strong suit (especially with creditors bugging her for money--but that's a story for another day).
My current struggle with her is one that I'm not sue how to negotiate. The short version goes like this: one of my favorite living authors was visiting her town for a special speaking engagement, the kind of thing that happens once in a blue moon. She promised to get us tickets as part of her "repay me" fund. It would be a bonding event for the both of us, the first time we would have spent significant time together in person in months. It meant the world to me--what could be greater than a public reading and my best friend?
I knew money was an issue so I offered to buy the tickets. No, it's my treat for you, she said. You can pay me back--I just want to make sure we get them before they sell out. Nope, I got it under control. Four months before the reading, it seemed that way--and before I knew it she told me she bought two tickets, balcony seating. Wahoo!
I found out a few weeks ago that the reading was sold-out, and upon touching base with my friend she seemed confused. Apparently she had lied (deliberately or not, I'm not entirely sure) and hadn't bought the tickets. No worries, though--she'd take care of everything.
You know where this is going, right? I spent the night of the reading alone, at home, grading papers while many of my other friends and classmates got to hear my favorite author in person. Everyone was chattering excitedly about it today, thanking me for bringing the event to their attention. I felt betrayed.
If my friend had just been honest, or responsible, I would have had a great time with her last night. She knew what going to that reading meant to me. It wasn't so much missing the event that bugged me. It was that she hadn't taken the time to make room for me in her life. If it was money, she could have asked and I would have had absolutely no qualms or judgments about paying. Instead, I have no clue what she did that night, but I know it wasn't with me. I wasn't important enough for her to take the time or energy to spend less than two minutes on a website and buy tickets. Our friendship wasn't worth the $70 I would have happily spent on seats. Our years of supporting each other as best we could added up to no communication and half-truths. In the end, all I get is a confused reply to my text this morning, wondering how I didn't know that we weren't going.
Making friends, especially close Christian female friends, in this world is pretty tough. We should hold on to the ones we have, forgiving 70 x 7 as Jesus said (although the implication was more unconditional than numerical). Forgiveness means working past the hurt feelings. Forgiveness means being honest that there were hurt feelings. Forgiveness means challenging yourself and the friend to work on the hiccups in the road.
I have a German-Austrian heritage and temper, which means we have a long fuse, blow hard, but blow over quickly. Within a day or two I'll have calmed down and forgiven her. What won't happen overnight is trust. Her behavior as of last year had decimated a lot of the trust between us, and this latest issue crushed most of the remaining bits. I keep asking myself why this happened, what went wrong, what I should have done, just how far I feel like I can trust her now--and I'm telling you that it's not very far. I wanted to believe in her again. I wanted to use this great event to springboard reclaiming lost ground between us. I feel as though I got her answer--silence, and then the usual plea for infinite forgiveness. And she wonders why I don't trust her. Sometimes "sorry" just isn't enough.
Trust is vital to healthy relationships. We trust God to care for us, and therfore don't worry as much (theoretically). We need to trust each other, and care well for that trust, in order to thrive as sisters-in-Christ. After forgiveness comes prayer again--this time to build up trust and start over...seventy times seven. This week, let's pray for the wisdom to rebuild broken walls and set solid foundations. In an increasingly secular world, can we really afford to lose much more ground?
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