My kind mother has been my travel companion for the first chunk of the journey, which comes with the usual family obligations.... seeing more relatives and old friends along the way. Which then comes with the usual comments about relationships. I think I'm now taking applications for any eligible men over the age of 23 that anyone over the age of 50 may know (or know someone who knows someone who knows someone...). It's not so bad. Perhaps it's nice that they take a genuine interest in my love life and care about me meeting someone who is truly great. As much as I've given up, I'm still remaining open.
But the greater part about interacting with relatives from the past is the stories they tell you about yourself from when you were younger. I cringed when my mom's cousin reminded me (in front of my mom, mind you) of how I told her many years ago while we were making cookies about how my mom was dumb and my dad was smart. That was when I was quite young... so I cringed even more when she reminded me of something I said a mere seven months ago when I passed through on my move out to Massachusetts.
My mom has also reminded me of the things I used to do and say, and commenting with surprise on the fact that I wasn't criticizing her in the same ways I had in the past... and while I'd like to think those harsh tones had faded away many years ago, I know the wounds are much more recent.
It's caused me to pause.
It's caused me to think twice about how I might be perceived to other people. My dripping sarcasm, even when laced with a toothy smile, can be taken as me just being mean... and sometimes I forget that. It's caused me to remember that my words affect others. It's caused me to see the negative impact I can have on others without thinking twice about it.
The funny thing is that no one is reminding me of these things I've said/done to make sure I know how awful it was, they're just things that come up in reminiscing the past or in telling funny stories... and internally, I balk in shock at my brash and selfish persona. Surely I couldn't (or wouldn't) have said or done that... right..?! And, knowing that I must have, I hate that I did...
It's been a day of being thankful that the Lord changes people...even me... who sometimes can pridefully think there isn't much to change. And it's been a day of being humbled as I am reminded of how I still need continuous refinement. I still need grace. I still need Jesus.
I don't know if you're ever mortified about who you've been in the past... or worried about how that version of you might still sometimes creep into your vocabulary or your actions or your tone...
But I know that I'm thankful that He softens me, that He opens my eyes up to the crude and selfish tendencies that I sometimes cling to... and I'm begging that He would continue to hammer out those sharp, insensitive and broken pieces of my soul. I'm begging that I would remain open to their existence, that I would be constantly humbled in being transformed--even when it's sometimes a painful process.
I'm painfully aware of the undesirable parts of me...but I'm also hopeful that change is possible. That my heart of stone can truly be replaced with a heart of flesh.
Thank You, Jesus.
And thanks for a family who reminds me that I am changing, growing and becoming more like You... even if it sometimes seems like a long, slow process...
And just when I doubt that people can ever change, I realize that I, myself, am changing and have changed.
So are you.
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Oh goodness. I recently found this to be something very, very odd about me. It's the reason I don't journal: I HATE looking back on myself. Anything in my life that has any bit of uncertainty or incompleteness or any lack of "perfection," I would cringe at if I saw it in writing--then my lack of perfection is somehow made permanent. Or maybe it's not my imperfections so much as a lack of consistency. I loathe inconsistency, and if I see it in myself, then I want to rip up any evidence of it.
ReplyDeleteWhile some look back and say, "Oh cool! Look how much I've changed," my mentality is more, "What a fool I was back then, I hope everyone forgot about that."
That's why I admire you writing so openly on this blog, Debbie! I'd be freaking out if I could look back on such vulnerability. Because vulnerability really helps others see the foolishness in themselves, and helps them move past it or not hate themselves for it.
Anyways, that's something I'm trying to move past.