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As my wonderful friend, Debbie, says,“most dogs don’t bite because they’re mean, it’s because they’re scared.”
Why do we condemn broken people for their brokenness? We all royally screw up at some point, have to start at ground zero, or find ourselves at the bottom of the hole that we’ve dug ourselves. Why would someone push away, abandon, “ghost,” their loved one when they’re in the middle of an incredible struggle, self-created or not?
*I totally understand/appreciate and encourage healthy boundaries. Hurting people hurt people, especially those of whom they are closest. And physical abuse is inexcusable.
Would you kick dirt onto my face while you stood on the surface, watching me struggle to climb out of the hole I dug?
Let’s look at where the spiritual people are right (I’m not saying that the religious are righteous–more often than not, I find they can be more hurtful) however, should they follow the black on the pages of the books they like to beat people with, a lot of the hurting, broken people out there would, or at least have a chance, to heal:
[A]bove all things, have fervent love among yourselves; for love shall cover the multitude of sins.
—1Peter 4:8
Just as a mother would protect her only child with her life, even so let one cultivate a boundless love towards all beings.
—The Buddha
Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.
—Lao Tzu
What would it look like to say, “I love you. I don’t agree with the choices you’re making, and the behaviors you’re participating. I will not engage in those. And I’m not going anywhere. I am here, with you. I am going to love you through this. Because I know you, and what you’re choosing is not who I know you are. And I will keep showing up.”
Just writing that is scary.
That makes me responsible for the love that I claim to have for you.
It’s a commitment to those I love that I will do my part to always love first, instead of showing indifference and fleeing an uncomfortable witnessing of your pain, addiction, or illness.
Sure, we’ll fail.
I’ll inadvertently make a snarky sarcastic comment, attempting to diffuse the tense moment of authenticity–completely missing the beauty of the fact that someone is vulnerably trusting me with the care of their heart that’s wounded. I’ll fail, and intentionally not sit with you and just let you hurt, let you process the nonsense and pain that is running through your head and heart. Because I’m scared. Because I have pain, and festering wounds that I have to look at too. And letting you recognize yours makes mine real.
As a man, I often feel my job is to “fix.” Every day I want to put on my Superman cape and tell myself that I have to save my loved ones from the evils of the world. But I’m just as helpless as everyone else. All I can do is show up, hold your hand, reinforce that you are not alone, and you are loved more than the pain you are experiencing. And I will keep showing up. No matter what.
Because space and indifference aren’t going to change anyone for the better.
Love will always win.
It has to.
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