This week I had a conversation with yet another woman who has committed herself to being there for me during my marital disaster. Even though we are states away, and she’s a single mom of three, she still manages to make time for me. I have to say, I could possibly be the luckiest unlucky woman in the world. Stuck in the middle of a mess of a life surrounded by women warriors who are ready to pray off my demons, carry me through, and encourage me to pick up my shattered pieces. God has provided for me.
During this conversation, my friend told me to look for the signs. I bristle when I hear that because I never was very good at looking for signs. I was horrible at interpreting literature and music in high school. Even dropped out of Brit Lit because it was just too much. Who cares why the author painted the walls in the study midnight blue or why the baby’s name was Sirus? I certainly didn’t care, nor did I want to dwell on the symbolism. If it wasn’t black and white and in my face, forget it. And signs for me are just as bad. I read all sorts of things into people’s body language and random things that happen - none of it is even close to being real. So when she told me to look for signs, I was like “um . . . okay.”
So this morning I was reading my Beyond Boundaries book again (I’m close to 75% of the way done with it already!), and I stumbled across a chapter on language and the way that people talk to each other. Initially I read this as a section on romantic love and language used in that way, but after reading it over a few times, I felt like this could be taken for any intimate relationship. Remember, I’m at a point in my life where romantic love and language isn’t even a part of my life - nor will it be for some time, and I’m working on building relationships with healthy people who can fill those voids for me so I don’t end up back where I started.
The book talked about intimacy and the difference between romantic language and vulnerable language, and as I read this section, it dawned on me that vulnerable language is what I crave and have craved for years. Phrases such as, “Tell me more about that,” and, “Did I hurt your feelings when I said that?” were things that neither one of us said to each other . . . maybe ever. But the ultimate was, “I’ve struggled as well,” because I feel like this is the key to relationships - relating to each other.
Ironically, Scott’s message at church was all about relationships - specifically the idea that the phrase, “Me too,” is so packed with care, love, compassion, and support. Those words flashed across the screen, and I could feel the familiar prickle of tears that I have all saved up for Sunday mornings. This is what I needed to hear today. I needed to hear him say that digging into each other requires a vulnerability that can produce that phrase that lets the other person know - “Hey, guess what? I sucked at that also. I’m so sorry you’re hurting. I remember how badly that hurt.” I needed to hear him say over and over again that the church is in the business of producing miracles from destruction and doing it through relationships. I needed him to remind me why I have that phoenix tattooed onto the back of my neck - rebirth from the ashes.
But I can’t do this alone like a phoenix does. I need my support system - my women warriors - my neighbor who runs across the street to pray for me and my friend of eleven years who will pray over the phone with me in the bathroom and my new friend who sends me encouragement almost EVERY MORNING via text message. Those are the people I need. They’re the ones who say, “Me too.” And although none of them have committed my sins exactly, they have hurt in ways that I’m hurting and can relate in a dozen ways, and when they say, “Yeah, me too,” I know they mean it. They’re women of God, and they’ve been placed into my life to carry me through.
That was my sign. God knows that unless I see it twice, it probably won’t register as a message from him, and unless I can literally hear him speak to me (and I have a few times over the last few months) I will ignore it. But he spoke to me today. He told me that my story does matter. That not only am I to look for people who can relate to me and help me heal, but I’m to take my story and relate to others who are hurting as well. The simple phrase, “Me too,” is a powerful one and one that could save another woman from internal destruction.
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