Making friends as an adult has been
tricky for me. I’m not a planner. I’m easily exhausted in social
situations. I work too much. My house is too messy. I need to spend one-on-one time with my kids. I need to make quality time for my husband. I need more sleep! I’m not good at making finger foods. I can’t multitask over children and
conversation. I don’t have anything to
wear!
Does
your list look anything like this? Managing the logistics of friendships with the
reality of daily life can be tricky.
(Really, who needs another thing
to do?) However, I’ve found that
logistics aren’t the real obstacle to friendships in my life: I am.
When you get right down to it, all
of those insecurities disguised as logistics say the same thing: I’ll be ready for friendship when
_________________. Or, stated
differently, I’m not really ready for friendship right now.
Does my
last sentence make you as angry as it makes me feel to write it? Of course I’m ready for friendship. I’m desperate for friendship! It’s just that . . .
Good friends plan fun
parties and bring energy into the room.
Good friends are selfless
stay at home moms who have somehow managed to prioritize their families and
friends over jobs, finances, and ambition.
Good friends have
clean houses, don’t rotate pajama pants as casual wear, and provide Pinterest
worthy party foods for their guests.
And really, it’s just that . . .
If you put me under a
microscope with all of my junk and my issues and my demands and my stuff, you’d
see . . .
I’m not really worthy
of friends right now.
But I will be one
day.
When I finally quit my
job.
When my kids are older
and my house is cleaner.
When I’ve worked
through my issues in therapy and have recovered from ___________ (you fill
in the blank).
If this is you (and
trust me, it’s me) . . . call me! I need
to visit your messy house. I need to
know you cannot find a single. pair. of. jeans. that. fit. I need to see you struggle to string
together sentences over your three year old and to hear your frustration (and
sometimes relief) over dropping said three year old off at daycare. I need to know what it’s like for you if you
stay at home with your kids and struggle with feelings of inadequacy (of course
you do!) just like I do when I go to work.
Do you
hear me? I need you!
Why? Because when you take the risk to expose
yourself to me, you help me see myself through God’s eyes. When you share your messy house, your burnt
cookies, and your dirty bathroom with me, you remind me that we are all created
perfectly imperfect. When we connect
over something, you are like a mirror to my soul, showing me that some part of
me is lovable. So very, very
lovable. Right where I am. Just as I am.
So, let’s make a pact. You share your vulnerability and your humor
and your stories and your tears with me, and I’ll let you visit my fraternity-esque
bathroom, see my unwashed hair, and hold my child with spaghetti on his
shirt.
Let’s trade mess for mess. Something makes me believe we’ll both leave
feeling a little more loved, a little more worthy, a little more like the
daughters of a King who did not hesitate to embrace the dirty, the sick, the
issue-laden, and the needy.
Like I said, I need you. And you need me too.
