I'm going to ramble
pretty hard. My brain felt a bit clogged a little while ago, so I would like to
unravel it here. It might not be pretty, but it will be how I feel. (I might
even keep mixing metaphors.) Thank you kindly in advance for reading.
A little while ago, I
almost wrote a status update on Facebook that probably would have gotten lots
of attention: "I'm tired of feeling like I don't matter to anybody."
The idea of me not mattering to anybody is a lie, of course. I matter to God.
Yes, the Bible tells me so. Yes, I matter to my Father because He sent His Son
Jesus to die for me, and many of us around the world are going to celebrate
that truth this coming weekend. Yes, I have faith that I matter to God. But
it's more than just faith. When the rubber meets the road, when everything else
is burned away, I'm going to need more than just faith. I'm going to need more
than just The Greatest Story Ever Told. I'm going to need more than just
biblical truth. I'm going to need relationship. I'm going to need
companionship. I'm going to need a Friend.
I know in the core of my
being that I matter to God because He's my Friend. And I think that's something
that gets cemented pretty hard when you're unemployed and your days move slower
than molasses running uphill and you stay inside your apartment to save gas
and, frankly, nobody ever checks on you. That last part bothers me, not
necessarily because I need checking on but because of my old neglect wounds
that are still healing, and also because of a deceased family member. My second
cousin died of a heart attack about 25 years ago when he was in his fifties. He
was a very nice guy, an artist by trade who lived alone and never bothered
anybody. So, I think his landlord was the one who found him dead in his
apartment, I think about two days after he had passed away. There wasn't anything
violent about his death, but I don't get why more people in his life didn't
keep him in the loop. He had a huge family -- he was one of about 12 siblings,
and he lived in a town where he had nearly a dozen relatives to hang out
with. And yet he died alone, and nobody knew what had happened to him until
long after it had happened.
This freaks me out. I
don't want to follow in his footsteps. And yet, I don't want fear to influence
my thinking, either.
I'm probably not
rambling about anything much different than I've already written about here on this
forum. In recent years, I've learned the very rough lesson that even the people
who care about you the most can barely remember to check on your well-being
when life gets busy for them. I hate that. I've always hated that. And it
doesn't comfort me to know that I'm probably freaking out because I'm a rabid
shepherdess who checks on people ad nauseam and not everybody is like me.
Sorry, but I am not chopped liver.
And there's a balance to
this, of course: I am not a baby, either. I don't need a relative to call me
from 500 miles away to tell me to be careful because The Weather Channel
predicted rain in the Metroplex. I hate that, too. My weather forecast here in
the Metroplex is always going to be more accurate than what a national weather
center is going to predict from hundreds of miles away. If The Weather Channel
says it will rain, and I see sunshine and dry streets when I look out my
window, um, I'm going to be fine, honest.
So, I guess I'm working
through my old neglect wounds still, and I guess I'm accepting the fact that I
am not always going to matter to everybody all the time. People who have
wonderful intentions are always going to possibly let me down, simply because
they are human and they have the same capacity for wounding people that I do.
Life gets busy, and unless I am joined at the hip to somebody, I am going to
have to be OK with being independent whenever it's necessary.
I like my independence.
I value my independence. I would rather have this than somebody calling me from
500 miles away to tell me to not go anywhere by myself. Um, I'm sorry, but I
have a life to live.
And I would rather have
a healthy interdependence on people, and I'm still learning what that looks
like.
Going back to the idea
that I had for a status update, "I'm tired of feeling like I don't matter
to anybody," I'm glad I didn't post it because I dread the responses I
would have gotten. I think somebody would have done some spiritual warfare in a
comment: "Lord, I just rebuke the lie of the enemy right now! Tirzah is
blessed and highly favored! No weapon formed against her shall prosper! In
Jesus' name I declare this, amen!" Thanks, but can you please just give me
a hug the next time you see me?
Or maybe people who
barely know me and never interact with me would come out of the woodwork and
try to encourage me: "I love your posts! Have you quit your job yet?"
Thank you.
Or maybe I would
accidentally offend somebody, of course, who may leave an angry comment or rebuke
me via private message instead: "What is the matter with you? Do you need
someone to prescribe you medication? How can you possibly think that you don't
matter? You have a degree from Baylor University! You are so intelligent!"
Thanks, but I don't think you get it. Sorry for offending you. Sorry for being too
vulnerable on Facebook. I tend to do that.
Going back to the idea
that God is my Friend, well, if you've been following my blog, perhaps you
remember that I have issues with intimacy and I have issues with prayer. Those
issues have slowly been healing, and it's amazing what God will use to burn
away my fear of intimacy and heal my perception of prayer. When I'm by myself
in my apartment (and it doesn't have to be just now), I can have a running
conversation with God all day long. He and I can ramble to each other as often
as we like. I know that I matter to Him because He doesn't slap me away when I
have a question about something. He doesn't lecture me when I freak out. He
listens, He waits, He listens some more, He advises, He warns, He shows up, He
hangs out, He stays, He never leaves. Am I the only person in the universe? No,
I don't think so. But I think He treats me like I am. I think He treats all of
His children that way. Each and every one of us matters to Him, simply because
we're His. Even if we don't belong to Him, we matter to Him because He created
us, whether we believe it or not.
Hmm. I feel better now.
Thank you for reading my rambling.
Aw, yeah, the
writer can still write, even when she's unemployed. She's still got it. Sizzle
sound effect!
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