I yelled. I screamed. I cried. All at the same time.
Things got real this past week. I had an emotional breakdown.
It was in front of my wife. It was directed at my wife. It was the opposite of what a man is supposed to be.
I was weak. I was vulnerable. I was outside of myself with emotion. I haven't recovered yet.
It takes time to heal wounds, but in order to heal most wounds it requires us to admit we have them. However, in order to admit that we were, at some point in our lives, weak means that we cannot fulfill our social duties of being a strong, upstanding male. As a male in this world it is my job to hold the world's problems on my shoulders and carry on like it doesn't bother me--that I don't feel the strain of the world. Luck for me, up until recently I was able to do so pretty well: I went through my days taking on the problems of the world, doling out advice, offering grace to those who have done wrong, offering shoulders to those who have felt wronged. In doing all of this, I have been able to actively ignore the internal pressure that was building; overlook the problems that I had yet to deal with. It's been a miraculous existence, let me tell you. There are a couple of people, a handful at the most, who know the ins and outs of most of my life, but that doesn't mean that those ins and outs and have been dealt with.
For instance, most of you probably don't know that shortly after I graduated from Drake University, my grandmother passed away. I played it off like an act of a merciful god who saw that she had suffered long enough; but that was the extent of my grief. It wasn't a big deal; I hadn't seen her in years; she was beyond the ability of modern medicine to recover to her full self; she passed. Why should I be effected by the passing of a grandmother who hadn't been an active person in my life? Why? She was my grandmother; there were years when she was a very active part of my life. There were visits, there were sleep overs, there were egg omelets in the morning, with cartoons. That's why. However, I pushed it out. I pushed away those thoughts. I pushed away the things that would make me vulnerable in the eyes of the world so that I could go on protecting those who were less fortunate than I. I could be there for those who needed a helping hand in the storms of life.
Where is my hand? Who is there to help me? Nobody--that's who.
Nobody knows to ask me for help. Nobody knows the storm that is boiling right beneath the surface of my stoic demeanor. Nobody knows because I don't let them. I am too busy protecting myself from the others that there is no time for them to be let in; there's no time for crying; there is no time for a helping hand; a listening ear; a caring word...
The question becomes, what does this have to do with the purpose of this blog? Well, I'm getting there. Backstory is very important to me; it is important for me to let you know what has lead up to the thoughts that are pertinent, plus sometimes just sharing the beginning of the story is enough. I never really know where this is going to end up, so I let the words fall where they may and hope in the end I can breath a little easier. I can sleep a little sounder. I can love my wife just a little better. That's where this is going. That's where I want this to go. So, here comes something...
I just finished reading a book called Accidental Saints by Nadia Bolz-Weber. As I was reading through the 200 pages, they were filled with stories of brokenness, darkness, dead ends, and renewal. People are able to overcome the hardships of life when they are presented with the unwavering gift of grace. Now, this isn't have to be some overly Christian concept that gets thrown around in church. Grace extends far beyond the confines of any particular religious sect. It is life-giving, it is power, it is love.
It's okay, you are loved.
It's okay, you are loved.
It's OKAY, you ARE LOVED!
IT'S OKAY; YOU ARE LOVED!
That's grace. That's what I need. That's what you need. That's what we all need.
We need people to look us in our eyes and tell us that it is okay, and that we are loved. It doesn't have to be the gushy garbage that you see in rom-com movies, because that's not going to cut it. You come at me with anything less than sincere declarations of "It's okay, you are loved," you are bound to have a rude awakening. I don't do well with empty gestures of any kind. I need people who are willing to walk with me, and talk with me, and tell me that it's okay.
Page after page in the book is filled with the stories of people who needed just that. They needed gestures of grace that were meaningful and life giving--not empty and selfish. Often times I wonder if my "acts of service," mentality is just so I feel good about myself. I like to help others, but is it out of true grace and inspiration that I lend my hands to help, or is something more selfish? Do I look back at my day and say, "Good job man, you helped 4 people today. Let's do better next time!" I hope not. However, it is these sorts of thoughts that barrage my brain and my soul every time somebody reaches out with a word of grace for me. I see it as an empty gesture: they don't really mean it; they don't know me; they don't know what it's like; they don't know; they don't... they can't... they shouldn't... It's always the same. I never accept the grace that is given from others, which makes me wonder if I truly speak grace into the lives of others. Am I selfish? Am I truly caring? Am I truly life giving? Probably not!
We all have sinned and fallen short of of the glory that was intended for us, but what we do in the mean time means a lot!
Last night I begrudgingly went to a graduation banquet with my wife. You see, this is graduation weekend for a lot of institutions--my wife's being no different. So, here they celebrate by having all of the graduates get together and eat dinner and fellowship one more time before meeting up with their families for the ceremony. I didn't want to go, because following my break-down I haven't really been in the mood for anything. I have skulked around the house; ignored my wife; been angry; and have event lost a little joy in the changing of the seasons. It's been rough, needless to say, and I was not in the right mindset to be parading around with people I've only been exposed to 4 months ago: not my scene, not my thing, not my time... but the beginning of what I needed.
As soon as we walked in, one of my wife's friends--the patriarch one of the families on campus--engages us and asks me how I'm doing. I give a blase "it's alright," to which he clearly knew something was off, because he made a snarky comment about not having to deal with him for much longer (they're in the process of finding jobs as well). He saw I was off, and was trying to extend grace into my life--it's okay, you are loved! The night continued with my funk hanging over my head and there were more moments of extended grace that I didn't want to accept: one of the speakers thanked the spouses for the ongoing support that we have provided for the graduates; one of the graduates informed me that her husband didn't really know anybody from the class either; there was even a graduate spouse who had never been to campus until last night.
It's okay, you are loved!
Regardless of my station in life, people care about me. Regardless of how closed off I want to be, people always find a way to speak grace into my life. It's almost like magic, but not really. It's just one of those universal mysteries: sometimes we get it from a book, sometimes from a complete stranger. The god of the universe works through all things to ensure that we are looked after--in some fashion or another...
In closing, I am not the only one who is effected by the work of the spirit surrounding this rush to find a job. There are families, couples and individuals all over the place who are on the same path--some who have been here much longer than others. I'm not responsible for carrying the weight of this process on my shoulders; it is not my burden to bear; it is not my problem to solve. Yes, I will continue to strive to take on as much as I possibly bear, but I need to remember that there are others out there that I can call on to assist. We're not in this world alone, we are surrounded by people, and I have learned that, more often than not, people are willing to lend a helping hand if they're asked. The issue is that we don't know how to help, so we stand idly by while the world passes us by struggling with burdens that are too big for their shoulders.
It's okay, you are loved!
Sincerely,
A [Future] Pastor's Husband
No comments:
Post a Comment