I really am a silly girl. I am the girl who often cries “boy,” and today, it kicked me in the butt.
I sit here in a quiet, dimly lit coffee shop. The kind with musty couches and pretentious hipsters with their Apple computers, horn-rimmed glasses, and notebooks filled doodles and musings. My kind of place.
But in the corner sit two girls who disrupt the very nature of this place. They are speaking louder than the socially acceptable hush. Not only that, but their conversation is not even interesting, but annoying. They gossip, gossip, gossip. Tell boy story after boy story. And not one edifying thing comes out of their mouth. Well, one did proclaim “how nice” someone was, but the forced pleasantness in her voice would suggest that she was grasping at something “nice” to say herself.
I tell you all of this criticizing observation because this is the very trend I have found my own self in, especially in my relationship to the people from dancing. I can easily pick apart people’s dancing skills, social interactions, and emphasize how irritating I may find them. I know how to exclaim pleasantries about someone just to make up for all the gossiping I’ve done. And I definitely know how to gush about and dissect any boy story, big or small.
So today on my way to church I experienced a small encounter with a guy. It is of no matter to tell you. But, when I arrived to church, I gushed about the story to two of my female friends. There was a bit of a “you-silly-girl” tone to their voices but they were also amused.
Anyways, I moved on to go to service. I was going to sit with one of them and Amy. As I was going upstairs (from the fellowship hall in the basement to the chapel on first floor) to service, I saw another friend, whom I haven’t seen in a while, and rushed over to hug her and exchange hellos. In the process I lost the friend and Amy.
So I went to the chapel and walked in to look for them. I looked and looked around, but to no avail. Who I did see, on the other hand, was a bit unsettling to me.
Earlier this fall, I received a large bout of text messages from guy at church. A mere skeleton of the course of events:
-I received a few sporadic texts this summer inviting me to activities but I never responded. I was never able to go and I assumed they were texts sent to the masses.
-One night at the beginning of the fall, he sent something like 10 texts in the course of three late night hours asking why I never responded and accusing me of other things.
-I responded finally after a few more nights of these types of occurrences asking him to stop because I felt overwhelmed by the volume of texts I was receiving.
-He then sent another mass amount of texts telling me I was the one with a problem.
Needless to say, I don’t necessarily feel comfortable or safe about this man.
Back to the original story… This was the first time I had seen him at church since everything had happened. And seeing him left me feeling slightly frightened, so I left the chapel to seek out the friend and Amy. I wanted to find someone and fast to feel safer.
As I went to return downstairs to look for them, the friend came up the stairs with another one of her friends. Sigh of relief. But they started to enter the main level of the chapel, where the guy was. Feeling unsettled, I asked her if we could please go to the balcony. She continued to follow her friend into the chapel. I rushed to explain—“there is someone in there who I want to avoid.” A small laugh hinting at how silly she thought I was came from her mouth and body language. More subtle pleading, “No, really. He sent me a lot of texts and…” Dismissing me, she stated “You can sit up there by yourself if you want to. I’m sitting down here.” And she turned her back and walked away.
In that moment I not only felt frightened but also disrespected. And terribly, terribly hurt. Kind of like a slap in the face—the initial feeling of shock while the pain settles in.
I tried to dismiss the feeling quickly and went back downstairs to search for Amy. Thankfully I found her and thankfully she willingly sat with me in the balcony. And I tried desperately to push away the feelings and tell myself I was okay. But as I sat there in our third row balcony pew, the mixture of being frightened, disrespected, and hurt sank in deeper and deeper, and with it the tears and runny nose. And I wept.
The psych major in me analyzed the situation, and my conclusion is this: the friend was in the right to dismiss me. I am the girl that cried “boy” and hence her reaction to me wanting to avoid one. Even so, I still think my hurt is legitimate and so in part is her responsibility in causing it. I have bad habits, but she made a bad choice.
This moves onto my next thought process. There are a couple more friendships that I have been hurt by lately that are, in principle, similar to this one. It is easy to point fingers and place blame on the other person, but the Spirit has been helping me to identify my own sin in the matter before I confront the other person. Both sides have some responsibility in the brokenness of the relationship. I have bad habits and I've been hurt by their bad reactions. And my struggle now is wanting to repair friendships and confront the wrongs and hurts, but not knowing where my wrongs end and theirs begin. What sin is mine and what is theirs? How much do I claim as mine and how much do I hold them responsible to their own? And how do we turn the whole boat around to stop this broken relationship and turn it into one where we build up and encourage one another? I don't know yet, but I'm praying my way through it.