How Are You Showing Up?
The decorations have been packed away, the Christmas carols turned off. All the Advent chocolates have been eaten, and we’re regretting all the second helpings of pie and cookies. The weather reflects my mood as I ponder the questions that weigh heavy on my heart: So what? Who cares? What now?
As the holiday season ramped up, I could feel the anxiety growing in my heart. I can’t continue to hide from the disappointment I feel as friends, children, and coworkers seem to let me down at every turn.
It’s difficult not to take it personally when friends don’t respond to texts, leave you hanging when you would like to spend time with them, or ignore requests for help. When coworkers don’t seem to care, it makes me wonder, are they terrible at their jobs, or do I expect too much? When I ask for help on a project and get blank stares, is it me or them? If I stopped caring so much about a job well done, would it all come crashing down or just continue the way it always has? My son has been struggling in school and appears not to care. I have found it almost more than I can bear to watch him flounder. I’ve allowed his failures to become mine, and I can’t help but be disappointed in myself. Perhaps I have done something along the way to make him not care about school. Perhaps I took his pacifier away too early or let him have it too long. Maybe I’ve been too easy on him some of the time and too hard on him the rest of the time. I scrutinize every parenting choice for the past fifteen years, wondering, Is it my fault?
Everything feels extreme when disappointment weighs me down.
Through it all, though, there is a much deeper disappointment eating away at me. Disappointment in God.
I have grown up in the church. I know the stories and can sing the songs. I have read the books and highlighted the verses. In my twenties, I deconstructed my faith and built it back up again. All of my life, I have wanted a relationship with my Creator. I have wanted to not just know, but to feel that God is in control and that I am loved more than I could know. Trusted leaders tell me that Jesus is my rock and salvation; that if I trust him, he will guide me, hold me, and answer my prayers one way or another.
However, upon reflection, it feels as if I have been trusting and guiding my own choices while trying to convince myself that my decisions are “led” by a higher power. The version of Jesus preached to me over the years seems more like a magical wizard than the steadfast friend I had hoped for. Long ago in a land far, far away feels about as appropriate as died, rose, and reigns in heaven.
Now I’m in my forties, and the relationship I have been trying to foster for so many years feels one-sided. I cry out for help, for connection, for anything, but the answer is always silence.
The silence feels like a forest muffled in a heavy snowfall. There is something there, hidden under the thick blanket of snow, but it is elusive and distant. The persistent silence of the snowfall turns the ground to stone and is relentless in its indifference. It eats up my cries for help.
What do I do when my disappointment is based in fear?
Fear that my friendships aren’t as strong or real as I had thought they were. Fear that my son will be a failure according to society’s standards, and I will be held accountable for those failures. Fear that the personal relationship with Christ I have been promised was never what God intended in the first place. That it’s just another man-made concept.
What do I do in the face of disappointment and fear? Keep showing up.
Keep showing up for my friends, even when my ego feels bruised. Remember that when it comes to friendships, key ingredients are grace and understanding. Remember that there is always more to someone’s story or a reason for not returning phone calls or answering requests for help. Remember that friendship is about giving people grace and room to be imperfect, and that it’s not always about me. Remember that true friendship offers understanding.
Keep showing up for my son, even when I’m ready to give up. Change my perspective of what it means to be successful. Question society’s expectations of teenagers and young adults. Rethink what it means to be happy and successful, and be prepared to toss out old notions.
Keep showing up in my quest for faith. I’m not going to sugarcoat this; out of all of my fears, this one is the hardest to confront. The silence is soul-crushing. Perhaps showing up actually means questioning everything. In the past, I turned faith on its head, but maybe now it’s time to turn it inside out. Showing up means everything is up for debate. Everything.
Because what’s the point of showing up if God can’t handle being turned inside out? I have to believe he can.
How are you showing up in your life right now?
is a writer and blogger but more importantly, a wife and mother to two little boys. In her free time (if there is any) she can be found wiping snotty noses and volunteering in her community and school. Learn more about Stephanie along with her passion to encourage women and lighten their load at www.hugskissesandsnot.com.
Photograph © Jakob Owens, used with permission
Stephanie, I wish we could get together right this minute to have a long talk into the wee hours. I feel deeply about your anxieties, thought processes and questions about faith, friends, raising children, etc. I have empathy and experience for what you describe, but at 70, I have found a peacefulness with asking hard questions that I never had when I was in my forties. I’ll share a few of my
« realizations » as food for thought for you and catharsis for me: 1) other people don’t think and behave like me ; 2) many people I know don’t have the same sense of showing up, calling back, or being reliable. Maybe it was the way they were raised. Maybe with all the technology for communications, we haven’t all learned the proper etiquette. 3) One friend told me years ago that if she wound up in a Mexican jail with only a phone call, she’d call me. She said she was sure I would solve the problem.. That’s a stupendous compliment of my character, and I have great pride about being reliable and dependable. HOWEVER, these traits can be a burden. Sometimes one has to say that it’s too much to carry. And what my friend was saying is that other people are not necessarily like me.
Why is that? When you expect others to behave like yourself, it’s very disappointing when they don’t! Why aren’t we all using the same playbook? Dunno and now, don’t care! 4) One can only have a few very close friends at any given time, and they still can be
disappointing. Conclusion : I don’t expect as much from friends—or family—as I used to for some sort of emotional intimacy. They are the way they are, and I gotta be me. 5) Faith—a long and difficult enquiry—billions of people in the world believing different things that they are sure about the Unknowable. Good Luck ! 6) Kids—they arrive from a deep and wide gene pool. Parents play an
important role but cannot take full responsibility for the outcome. “One does one’s best”. The love and concern never goes away.
LORDY, LORDY, I MUST STOP! I guess you didn’t expect this from me. No silence here! No, I’m not drinking and writing! Just sharing with someone who shares so much of herself. Let’s keep showing up! Lots of love and Bon Courage, Susan