when i was young
  i loved extravagantly
i shared openly
     
        i didn’t know yet that people could take your words
         and use them to hurt you.

i didn’t know yet that sometimes being honest
    offends people.

i hadn’t yet been hurt
          by one who was called “friend.”


i got older
    wiser
i still loved wildly

      and yet i learned that there are moments
  when it is best not to share what you’re really thinking.

i learned that sometimes
       friendship is safer if you just “smile and nod”
avoid taboo topics
  don’t rock the boat

and then one day i wondered ~
     is that really friendship?


                                                                       ~~~

Last night over our anniversary dinner, I posed the question to Mike: “What has been your favorite part of the last three years?”

He answered that his favorite part has been discovering God together. That he never really had that before...before it always seemed like a solo journey.

Then, of course, he asked me the same question. I hadn’t actually thought of what my answer would be when I originally posed the question.

I sat in silence for a minute, and then said: “I think my favorite part of being married to you is that I feel like I’m learning how to be a friend again.”

He asked me what I meant. I struggled to find words.

You see, I used to be a much better friend. I used to share everything. I was an open book. I shared thoughts, feelings, experiences, opinions...and eagerly listened as my friends did the same. It felt like we really knew each other. Like there was never enough time to say all the words that needed to be said.

As time has gone by - as I’ve gotten older, as I’ve been hurt, as I’ve experienced what it’s like to offend someone with your differing opinion - I stopped being quite so open. Quite so real. I don’t know when it happened, really. It was one of those subtle things I didn’t really notice, until I woke up one day and wondered why - why in so many friendships I hold back, share only what I know the other person wants to hear, avoid those silently agreed upon “taboo topics”.

Recently, I’ve been feeling God tugging on my heart. Open up again. Give it a try.

My marriage to Mike is primarily like a best-friends-sleepover that happens to occur every night. We talk about everything. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when we think the other person might not understand. Even when it might start a difficult conversation.

We talk about all the things I tend to avoid with other people.

I could say this is because - for heaven’s sake - we’re married. It’s supposed to be more intimate than any other relationship. But the truth is, I used to be this vulnerable - this authentic - in all my close relationships. I’ve changed.

I almost think I’ve forgotten how to really share, really ask questions, even argue. I’m too busy calculating “Is that okay to say?” - “What if they don’t want to hear that?” - “What if they don’t like that I have a different opinion?”

I don't wonder that with Mike. I just spill. I say what I think. I process out loud - I don't try to figure everything out first. I let him see the rough, unfinished parts of me. I tell him when I need him to ask me questions, and I admit when I don't know what to say.

A good friend recently visited, someone we only see every few years, someone with whom I’ve always been real. I found myself processing out loud, saying what I was thinking, even arguing at times....all those things I used to do all the time, all the things I usually only do with Mike. And we had real, rich fellowship as a result.

Sometimes - when I don't have this - I blame it on my friends....

“They don’t want to hear what I have to say.”
“They don’t ask questions.”
“They clearly don’t want to talk about *that*.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s not. But if I hold myself back, if I don’t offer myself, I’m the one short-circuiting the possibility of real connection. I’m the one who isn’t loving like Christ loves. I’m the one who is holding myself back in a casket of safety and self-protectiveness.

I think I’m starting to be able to work through what it looks like to offer friendship, what it looks like to be vulnerable and offer myself. It’s an entirely different proposition, you know - being real and vulnerable after you’re an adult and you’re supposed to know better. Now you know - you know the sting of rejection. You have to ask if you’re willing to risk it. And are you willing to risk it when it really matters - not with a mere acquaintance, but a best friend, a family member, a former confidante? Are you willing to rock the boat, share your true heart, even if it means getting hurt?

Am I?

If I am not (so willing), I think I should not be quite so surprised when my friendships are not as real, and rich, and deep, and wide as I want them to be.

                                                                             ~~~

so then i picked up my heart
  held it gently in my hands
said a prayer
  and lifted my hands to the sky

a heart isn’t worth having
     if you lock it up inside
where no one can hurt it
    

   but also, no one can know it.

open up your heart
 open up your hands

learn what it means to love.