O Lord, Make Me Vulnerable!

I recently got asked if I ever blog. Well, I do now. Or think I will. I'm going to try! And maybe in the process I'll finish what I started last summer. I sketched a book a little over a year ago, but the challenge of penning so many chapters proved too ominous each time I tried to compose a sentence. There it was - a blank screen. A blank screen waiting for my fingers to plunk-plunk-plunk out hundreds of thousands of letters intended to comprise syllables that would formulate words connecting syntactically in order to compose coherent sentences, paragraphs, chapters, and, ultimately, a book. Not only was the quantity I would have to write absolutely daunting, but the subject was far too personal: the book title, 29 and Single: The Christian Girl's Worst Nightmare. I had chapters named, a basic outline formed, and lots...and lots...and lots of experience with the subject. I couldn't move beyond the titles and preface, though. If I wrote the book, I would have to publish it. And if I published it, people would see me. No, not the physical 'me' that walked around. The ME me that lives inside Me. My heart, my soul - the weaknesses, pain, the ...gulp... penetrable joints in the defense system constructed around my not-quite-so-steel heart.

And being seen by others has never been my favorite thing. I'm the girl who really, really, really wants to be seen by someone, just not by everyone. Spotlights have never been my friend. Typically, being in a spotlight results in me turning bright red, stuttering, sweating profusely, possibly crying, almost barfing, and probably needing Depends, all simply to preface me blurting out something incoherent and certainly mortifying. No, no public arenas for me, please. I'm best kept in dark corners where I can happily bloom brightly and joyfully just enough for those who love me despite my weaknesses.

And so I act like a dog on a hot summer's day: I run from shady spot to shady spot, spending as little time in the sunlight as possible. I keep people at arm's length, somehow expecting Prince Charming to see and love me for who I am without ever actually seeing who I am. I guess he's supposed to have a crystal ball or something? I mean, he's a prince - and he's charming. He should have some magic trick up his sleeve! Some divine connection to God's mind. Some mystical way of discerning that God created him for me and me for him, and therefore rushing in with all the heroics and romances accorded to the 'princes' of Hollywood and Disney romances. Thus, because my Prince Charming has his Superman connection to God, I pound the stakes in around me, add extra mortar between the bricks, stuff super-sized cannon balls into the arsenal behind my walls, create secret passwords to my heart, don camouflage BDU's and, firmly gripping my M14 semi-automatic sniper rifle, stand watch from the safety zone that affords no hurt.

A controlled environment, in other words.

Control. This word bothers me. People use it so...negatively. Control is good, right? Having a face that's an open book means other people can read me. Controlling who moves past the line is natural, even intelligent. Control my emotions. Control my mind. Control my mouth. (Okay, I probably never got that one figured out!) Control control control. If I control my environment, I can't be hurt. I can't be manipulated, used, lied to, taken for granted. I can't be disappointed, hope bereft, and lie bleeding on the floor.

But here's what I'm learning: I also can't be loved.

Let's take a step back, for a moment. Or, more precisely, let's hop onto a parallel trail. When my vacuous heart starts making the Serengeti look like a densely populated rain forest, I subconsciously turn to songs from childhood and favorite books of the Bible. Songs like "Create in Me a Clean Heart" or "As the Deer Panteth for the Water." And yes, I sing them in the Old King James version because that's how I learned them as a runt. I read Psalms, Proverbs, Luke, Colossians. There's purity in childhood. Faith, hope, love - the attributes heralded in Corinthians - seem easy to embrace and practice. We haven't yet ascribed words to the realities - named and qualified the essences, broken them down into theological discussions and intellectual concepts, rated our lives by others' perceptions of our abilities to choose to practice Biblical values. We're kids. We just love. We hope. We believe, trust, follow. Without reservation, without calculating risk potential, without prefacing our actions with stipulations, without contemplating cause and effect. We're vulnerable.

My mom commented a few days ago that I can be hard on people sometimes. Knowing she was right, I pondered the reasons. I tried to watch my interactions with people as well as my internal self-perceptions. The conclusion: I perverted the "Love thy neighbor as thyself" verse somewhere along the way. I lived that verse as if it read, "Treat thy neighbor as thyself." I worry so much about being a hypocrite that I use a double measure of criticism against myself. I've spent a lot of time beating myself up for mistakes, or perceived mistakes, and very little time 'loving' myself. Please don't get me wrong - I'm not saying we should all be self-lovers! But if I let myself see me as God views me, I would not focus on my shortcomings at the expense of progress and, who knows, maybe some day even a healthy relationship with a man. If I could accept the fact that I'll always be human, and always have imperfections, then I could move beyond the habit of a controlled environment. There has never been a question in my mind about others: I'm prepared to deal with someone else's imperfections. But can I deal with my own? And is being more hard on myself really going to lessen the hurt to others if I'm only half as hard on them? If I 'love' myself as Christ loves me, how much softer will that make me toward others? Could I once again live with childlike wonder, abandoning hopelessness in exchange for Love?

This, then, is my first blog post. My request - my one prayer to God - for however long it takes - will remain, O Lord, make me vulnerable!