I live about three hundred miles away from my family. A job took me from the heart of beautiful, boring North Idaho* and deposited me on the far western side of Washington. There are two important things to note about my location.
One: living next to Seattle, a city that supposed to be fairly exciting (I’m told that by people who don’t live there) has not made me any more exciting as a person. This is solid evidence against the commonly held theory that anyone who lives in or near Seattle instantly turns into a urban-psuedo-hippie-hipster-granola-nature-freak who subsists on tofu and that stuff that grows in the back of your fridge. The sad truth is that even after three years living where I live, I can’t fit into any hipster crowds due to my lack of trendy clothes, trendy political views, and trendy religious convictions. I’m a twenty-something year old curmudgeon, and curmudgeons aren’t hip.
Two: living three hundred miles away from my family puts me in the strange position of being on the outside, looking in. You see, everyone else lives here (I’m typing this in North Idaho), which means that everyone else sees each other on a weekly or monthly basis. This close proximity gives my family plenty of time to develop all sorts of nifty grudges, hurt feels, and general unhappiness. As it turns out, people, even good people like my family, don’t always get along.
I ask you, dear reader, what does that make me in this quagmire? It makes me a mediator, a middle man, and, most importantly, an open ear. There are times when I wish that I could get everyone in one room for a WWF style battle royal complete with thrown chairs, clotheslines, and flying elbows. Then we could sit down together and drink eggnog while we get our gaping wounds stitched up and casts put on our broken limbs. That’d be a family Christmas to remember.
But we don’t have battle royals (even though I’m pretty sure the pay-per-view money would offset the medical bills). Instead we have awkward silences, strained greetings, and far too many questions not asked and not answered. As an outsider, as someone who is both part of and removed from the drama, I get a better picture of the whole thing. The problems are, when seen from outside the trenches, small and petty. Most of them are caused by people not saying what they really think and by people hiding what they really feel. I guess that’s what kills me the most.
I’m not writing this to complain about my family. I love each and every one of them. I’m writing this because I don’t think my family is any different than most. I’m writing this to say that letting small problems fester until they take on a life of their own is an easy way to start dying, an easy way to start killing yourself and those you love.
So this is my plea to anyone who reads this blog: don’t let stupid problems and old grudges kill your relationship with your family. They’re your flesh and blood. You’re stuck with them if you like it or not.
Have a Happy New Year. Congratulations on surviving another one.
*As a side note, it’s my firmly held belief that North Idaho should be its own state so that I won’t have to answer stupid questions about potatoes that are grown hundreds of miles south… stupid potatoes and stupid license plates talking about stupid potatoes.
One: living next to Seattle, a city that supposed to be fairly exciting (I’m told that by people who don’t live there) has not made me any more exciting as a person. This is solid evidence against the commonly held theory that anyone who lives in or near Seattle instantly turns into a urban-psuedo-hippie-hipster-granola-nature-freak who subsists on tofu and that stuff that grows in the back of your fridge. The sad truth is that even after three years living where I live, I can’t fit into any hipster crowds due to my lack of trendy clothes, trendy political views, and trendy religious convictions. I’m a twenty-something year old curmudgeon, and curmudgeons aren’t hip.
Two: living three hundred miles away from my family puts me in the strange position of being on the outside, looking in. You see, everyone else lives here (I’m typing this in North Idaho), which means that everyone else sees each other on a weekly or monthly basis. This close proximity gives my family plenty of time to develop all sorts of nifty grudges, hurt feels, and general unhappiness. As it turns out, people, even good people like my family, don’t always get along.
I ask you, dear reader, what does that make me in this quagmire? It makes me a mediator, a middle man, and, most importantly, an open ear. There are times when I wish that I could get everyone in one room for a WWF style battle royal complete with thrown chairs, clotheslines, and flying elbows. Then we could sit down together and drink eggnog while we get our gaping wounds stitched up and casts put on our broken limbs. That’d be a family Christmas to remember.
But we don’t have battle royals (even though I’m pretty sure the pay-per-view money would offset the medical bills). Instead we have awkward silences, strained greetings, and far too many questions not asked and not answered. As an outsider, as someone who is both part of and removed from the drama, I get a better picture of the whole thing. The problems are, when seen from outside the trenches, small and petty. Most of them are caused by people not saying what they really think and by people hiding what they really feel. I guess that’s what kills me the most.
I’m not writing this to complain about my family. I love each and every one of them. I’m writing this because I don’t think my family is any different than most. I’m writing this to say that letting small problems fester until they take on a life of their own is an easy way to start dying, an easy way to start killing yourself and those you love.
So this is my plea to anyone who reads this blog: don’t let stupid problems and old grudges kill your relationship with your family. They’re your flesh and blood. You’re stuck with them if you like it or not.
Have a Happy New Year. Congratulations on surviving another one.
*As a side note, it’s my firmly held belief that North Idaho should be its own state so that I won’t have to answer stupid questions about potatoes that are grown hundreds of miles south… stupid potatoes and stupid license plates talking about stupid potatoes.
Comments
It really shouldn't be this hard, but somehow it always ends up that way.
I love him, but I don't like him... I don't know maybe this is too much information. I wanted to be a light to him, but I realize that I have a ton of bitterness against men like him (in general)that is getting in the way...
My first advice would be to talk to a pastor or a close friend you respect. I'll tell you what I think below, so I'm not blowing off your request. I've just found that the best advice is normally found from people who are a) spiritual elders (like the pastor) b) or close personal friends with a history of good choices.
That said, here's my advice for what it's worth. First, if he's a non-Christian, you can't hold him up to the same standards that you would a Christian. Because Christianity is a way of life (they used to call it "The Way" back in the olden days) and not just something to do on Sunday (as many people outside the faith view it), you can't expect him to see things the way you see them. Example: When I told a co-worker that I wouldn't go to a strip club because lusting after women would damage my relationship with Christ, he looked at me like I was insane. In his eyes, I wouldn't be hurting anyone. In my eyes, I'd be turning my back on my Savior. Christians look at the world entirely differently than non-Christians.
What you can do is this: Tell him that the way he's acting is hurting your relationship, that you see in him things that you see in those other men you really don't much care for. At that point he gets to decide if his relationship with you is more important to him than the discomfort he's causing you. This isn't an ultimatum. This is simply you telling him that he's doing something you find unacceptable. If he doesn't, or can't, change, you get to decide whether you want to hang out with him anymore. If he won't or can't change and you decide that you'll still hang out with him, you can't hound him about it because you had (and have) the option to leave.
I gaurantee that conversation will be awkward.
And, through all of that, remember that Christ loves you despite your imperfects.
And now for my disclamers: I'm not a pastor, counselor, or person who gives advice all that often. Take anything I say with a grain of salt. I don't suggest dating non-Christians as a means to bring them to Christ. The Apostle Paul agrees. If by womanizer you mean he's liable to do you emotional or physical harm, you're better off away from him. Oh, and don't run with scissors. Sorry, this reply was really long and serious and really needed something irreverent to end it.
But I kinda asked for it by starting a conversation... and then answering questions very brutally honestly. I wanted to be able to do that AND maintain a relationship. Instead, he's bashed my faith, my lifestyle and my marriage.
The way he sees it, I did that to him by telling him how I feel about his lifestyle...he called it taking "pot-shots" which I don't really know what that means.
Here's the clincher: I cannot let go of people once they enter my life. I love them to death..squeeze the life from them... at least I think that is what I do. They seeme to run away from me. I love this guy, but he's so...vile...unsaved... and yet God died for him, so I keep seeing this guy as an awesome Christian husband some day...does any of that make sense?
I promise not to run with scissors, and no, I don't hold you to anything. I've lurked here off and on and value you opine.
I think the problem with brutal honesty is that it usually comes across as more brutal than honest. Once someone feels like they're being attacked, they stop listening and start trying to defend themselves. In his case, he started attacking you. It's easier than answering questions about himself.
My only real suggestion would be to not try to save him. The theory here is that no matter how great your logic, how infallible the truth you lay before him, if he isn't ready to listen, he won't. That's where the Holy Spirit comes in with the softening the heart bit you hear people talk about. Until he's ready to listen, or talk, or both, you're better off just loving him. He knows by now that you disagree with some of the things that he does, so you won't gain anything by telling him again. Unless what he's doing is actively making you uncomfortable or potentially harming you or your children, I wouldn't bring it up again until he does or you feel lead to.
That's kind of my mental picture of loving the sinner and hating the sin, anyway.
I have friends who would die laughing if they knew I was suggesting tact. It's really not my strong suit.
I feel supported in my faith and directed toward a fruitful relationship.
Glad my advice was useful. Not sure about the wise thing though. Mostly I just listen to people smarter than me and try to apply that.
Girl (et al),
I've been working with the youth for a few months. I wrote about one of the most memorable experiences in October of last year in a post titled "On inadequacy." Check it out in the archives if you're bored.