Mean Girls

Again it happened. It happens annually. Callous women in my life do this thing which leaves me sucker-punched because I forget - and forgive - and forget. So it catches me in the ribs, then behind the neck, and down I go.

Salty tears blanket my face. I ask Tom, "Why?" Poor man. He cannot know the answer. And he knows I will never say anything to the malicious women who take pleasure in hurting me.

What they don't know, though, is that every time they play their cruel game I become a bit stronger as I seek solace. Tenaciously. Platitudes don't cut it: "You shouldn't be upset, you have God!" "Everything happens for a reason." "The battle is the Lord's."

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I am upset because I have God and I know that this is an evil - dressed in church clothes - perpetrated by women who claim to be His children. It will never sit well with me. I'm looking for tables to overturn.

Happens for a reason? Does that mean just sit there? Sometimes. But maybe the reason is for me to see a blind spot of my own, to pursue the removal of it, to learn something about myself, about God, about the order of things, and thus to grow. At any rate it is not comforting to be told there's a reason. Of course there's a reason - there was a reason for the cross, too, and Jesus didn't just sit there with a stupid look on his face and call it 'faith'. He grappled and wept. Often grappling and weeping are called for. (Not that any of my so-called trials can begin to compare with Jesus'.)

Lord's battle, yes, but who does the fighting for me? Aren't I supposed to fight the good fight, run the race, fear and tremble my way to the finish line? Yes, there is an internal restfulness in knowing that ultimately all is well with my soul. But please don't tell me whose battle it is, I know full well; I'm in the middle of the battlefield. Look! Wounds! Blood! Arrows aplenty sticking out of my back! The battle may be the Lord's but it's obvious I am to participate.

So I continue the search. Tears dry up quicker these days. More arrows with which to defend fill my quiver, more understanding in my heart - I, too, offend obliviously and not - and truer compassion are the products of fighting this battle. Would I rather not fight, foregoing insight? Yesterday - in the midst of the pain I would have answered affirmatively. Today, the answer is 'no'. The inherent truth of the lesson impels me.

In the meantime I take solace in these words of Don Miguel Ruiz:

"If others say one thing, but do another, you are lying to yourself if you don't listen to their actions. But if you are truthful with yourself, you will save yourself a lot of emotional pain. Telling yourself the truth about it may hurt, but you don't need to be attached to the pain.

If someone is not treating you with love and respect, it is a gift if they walk away from you. If that person doesn't walk away, you will surely endure many years of suffering with him or her. Walking away may hurt for a while, but your heart will eventually heal."

[Emphases mine]

In the words of John Lennon:

"And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder."