In my neighborhood, homeowners take great pride in creating positive curb appeal. Yards are landscaped, flower beds are pruned, and front porches hold shabby chic decor, all creating an inviting exterior. Many homeowners also pay special attention to their foyer. The foyer is what the delivery person sees when putting a package on your porch, and where you visit with the neighbor who drops off the incorrectly delivered package.
Once you get past the foyer, that’s where the real living takes place. Dog toys are strewn across the floor, unopened mail is stacked on the kitchen island, there is a tote of things on the stairs that someone needs to take up the next time they pass by it (for the 10th time!). Living rooms, kitchens, and bathrooms, that’s where we do real life, and real life is messy sometimes.
When we have company coming over to share a meal, or we are hosting our small group from church, what do we do? We scoop up all of our stuff, and we put it in the hall closet, pantry, or kitchen cabinets (where it will sit for a few weeks because we forgot where we put it). We want our home and our life to look presentable to others. But, what happens over time, if we’re lucky, is we develop relationships with people, in which we no longer feel the need to clean up before they come over. They accept our house and our lives just as they are – messy and lived in. These people become like family.
Unfortunately for me, years ago, I had a family-like friend stop coming into my living room. There were changed circumstances in both of our lives that made her think that boundaries were needed. I didn’t understand at the time and was deeply hurt. I took from that experience that being vulnerable and transparent with someone wasn’t worth the hurt that could come from possible rejection later.
Nowadays, I have lots of front porch friendships, some have come into my living room (but I’m still tidying up before they come over). A very few have been let into the mess that is my real life. Even those few, I still hold at arm’s length, because any closer, and they might actually wound my heart.
I know God is calling me to let people in, but when you’ve been hurt deeply and/or more than once, it is a very hard calling. For me, I think I need to find “my people”. People with similar kinds of “junk” that will understand why my “house” looks the way it does. Because, years later, I’m still wounded. I haven’t experienced the healing nor have the courage to make myself that vulnerable again. One could even reason that if you don’t let others close to you, they can’t hurt you. True, but you also don’t get to experience the joy, peace, and comfort that comes from family-like friendships. I’ve known those feelings, and I hope one day I will experience them again.
This isn’t one of those devotional posts where I’m going to quote a scripture or paraphrase a sermon that changed my heart and my life. The call to action from this post isn’t to look and learn from my transformation, because, I’m not there yet. I’m still in the midst of the mess and the hurt of it all. I share this story so anyone who has felt the same pain can feel less alone and maybe we can encourage one another to open our hearts to the possibilities of new friendships. To invite others in to our living rooms without picking up the mess.