Today, I just happened to walk out of the Mother's Lounge (the comfy place to breastfeed) at church at precisely the wrong time, witnessing a brief, but heated, exchange between a friend and her husband. I debated pretending I hadn't seen anything, but I didn't. It was um...obvious that I had totally seen everything. And she needed a hug. And she cried about it, and vented a little, and took a deep breath. We hugged again, and parted ways.
And I was so grateful. For her. For that moment.
Because, you see, this morning before church I was feeling so...low, and scattered. There was the normal craziness of getting ready for church, and then feeling like I had nothing to wear, nothing was clean, I have to do laundry, and catch up on the dishes from yesterday and no one else must have these issues with keeping up with life, and I have to get myself together because I need to parent three kids through church without anyone being disrupted, but I am feeling so overwhellllllllmmmmeeeed. I just want to feel calm inside. I just want a break from my own head. I have no room left in my brain to think clearly, or to think about anything else, everything else that needs to get done. How does everyone else do it!?
My friend didn't have to let me in. She didn't have to let me comfort her and let me see more of her difficult situation. She could have left, walked away, pretended everything was okay when I came over. And I would have let her, of course, because it was hers to share or hide. But she was brave, and she let me be there for her. She opened up her hurting heart.
And I was so comforted. Not because I needed to know that she had issues...but because I needed to know that it was okay to have them. That it was okay to talk about them. That it was okay to be open to love and comfort when I need them. I felt unburdened simply by being witness to her willingness to share and be open.
I have been thinking a lot about vulnerability lately, and I still don't feel like I have that comfortable grip on what it is to me, yet. It feels so raw and elusive. Which is maybe exactly what it's supposed to be. I only have messy thoughts, questions I've been asking myself.
I feel like we, as a culture, are not very friendly to people being vulnerable. We condemn people for "oversharing" and tsk-tsk people who bear their souls. It's like we feel the need to cover up their naked emotions. Hey, um...did you know that you're supposed to act like you don't feel like that??? How embarrassing that you don't know that we just don't SAY things like that out loud! We're pretending to be perfect here, helllllooo! Okay, you totally let your weakness show there...(giggle, snicker)... So...can we just stop that? Like right now? Is it possible that maybe that person knew perfectly well that you would look down on them for talking out loud about their difficult moment, or feeling genuinely grateful for a success...and did it anyway? That they actually did it because they were courageous? Brave? That they were opening themselves up to love and support, knowing FULL WELL that they are also opening themselves up to judgement and silent-ish ridicule? That they knew they were supposed to be pretending to be perfect? Maybe, just maybe, it was more important to them to be open and authentic...real!...than to appear like they had it together every minute of every day. You could argue that some are doing it for attention, fine. But they are being pretty dang clear that they need some attention, don't you think? That they need people reaching out in love, even just with a little uplifting word here and there. Is it really our job to withhold love and comfort from someone, just to teach them a lesson about the right way to get attention???
What is it about someone opening up that is scary or uncomfortable for us? Are we maybe a little jealous that they don't feel bound by the same fears we do? Do we want to silence them because we are offended that they don't seem to struggle with the same battle that we do with fearing the opinions of others? Are we willing to give our fears a run for their money by opening up ourselves? Are we willing to be loved? Are we willing to be hurt? Are we willing to just BE who we are, as we are, in that moment?
What does vulnerability look like in my life? Where can I apply this strength, this humility, in the ways I need it most?
I have friends that are my role models for their ability to be open and vulnerable. I respect the heck out of them. Someday, I want to be as brave as they are. I am working on it.
With those messy questions on this quiet and thoughtful night, I'll leave you with this TED talk I've listened to recently that got me thinking in the first place. It's a oldie, but a goodie. And worth a second listen, even if you've heard it before.
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