Sleeping on Dad..
Sleeping on Mom...
First bath
squishy face is funny
Monday, March 28, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The First Few Weeks
Punkin
Meeting the Fam:
Mom and Dad looking a bit tired but totally in love with the tiny bundle of joy:
Meeting the Fam:
Mom and Dad looking a bit tired but totally in love with the tiny bundle of joy:
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Introducing Banner Joellen Bartley
Its been so long since I have blogged. Writing has become somewhat elusive for me over the last few years. I'm looking forward to using this site now for updating friends and family on my sweet baby girl.
Banner Joellen was born January 6, 2011 at 10:08pm. She was 20 days early but still weighed in at a healthy 7lb 14oz and 20 1/2 inches long.
Hospital pics:
Grammie!
Cousin Saige & Paw
Mimi & Papa
Bonding with Daddy
Ready to go home!
Banner Joellen was born January 6, 2011 at 10:08pm. She was 20 days early but still weighed in at a healthy 7lb 14oz and 20 1/2 inches long.
Hospital pics:
Grammie!
Cousin Saige & Paw
Mimi & Papa
Bonding with Daddy
Ready to go home!
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Judy
I try to avoid spiritual allusions as much as possible when I write. I am a deeply spiritual person, but in writing it comes out sounding trite. There are certain phrases that are so overused that they become plastic. For better or worse, I would rather have a deep understanding that God’s hand is orchestrating every part of my life and never mention it than say something that makes God seem small or cliché…or even that would give the impression that I am some spiritual elite. I am, of course, I just don’t want people to know I’m A Team.
That said, I am going to attempt a story that needs to be told. Its probably the most remarkable thing that has happened in my life…or has been revealed to me at this point. Its about a girl named Judy… at least that was the name her first English teacher gave her. Her real name is Ji Jing Jie.
I have written some about my path to China. Like many people who go overseas, I felt inadequate to go. Like I wasn’t at the level I needed to be. Funny, that makes me think of Mario Brothers. I was at level three and somehow found a way to make a hole in the roof, breezed over the top of it and next thing I knew I was at level eight…without fireballs…and I was scared. Honestly, I never had a heart for the world. I still don’t…not really. I had done a missions class for a semester in college where I learned about all the things going on in the world, but mostly we just listened to stories from real people about their experiences. I truly believe, no amount of pleading for the souls of people, or descriptions of poverty and bereavement would ever have convinced me to be a missionary. Unfortunately, I’m not that compassionate. But when I heard story after story about what God was doing all over the world, people who had suffered and been tortured for the gospel, it got me excited…not to save people, but to get caught up in the flow of His mighty works in this big world.
I would go back home to my little world of business classes, sorority meetings and movie nights, and I knew there was something much bigger out there if I had the guts to try. Ultimately we all live in our own little world, whether its in Slovakia or Corsicana, we’re just little people. I just wanted to witness God in a bigger way…catch a glimpse of His glory with a wider lens. But I was afraid about any expectations there were about MY role in all of this. There are certain underlying assumptions that people have about missionaries…that they have a mission, for instance…or some deep love for the nations, or at least the specific people they are ministering to…or that they are ministering at all. These things made me nervous.
The week before our team got on the plane for China, we had a briefing in California. Hundreds of young people from all over the States gathered and prepared to go to East Asia. They gave us a whole day to be alone and in prayer. I went down to the beach and had a long conversation with the Lord about what was going to happen. I don’t remember much about it, but what I do remember was asking to be used by him like a tool. I was very aware that I didn’t have much to offer and the thought of going over there to save people didn’t sit well in my soul. A hammer can’t do anything without a person to lift it and exert some sort of power behind it. So I just asked God to do big things…and if he got around to it… to use me to do it. I was already going to be there anyway. The whole idea that God would use me, when he could just use a sunset or a rock to speak of His love and grace for the world, was pretty humbling. I’m not sure what I expected, but I knew even with the best training, ultimately I was me. I also asked God to make His work evident, because I tend to take credit for a lot of things He does.
Fast-forward about a month and I’m walking around on my new campus, trying to ignore the heat, and looking for Chinese girls that I could meet briefly and write their name and number in my little book. Little did they know I would eventually create an excel spreadsheet on a hidden drive in my computer with their Chinese name, English name, class, dorm number, room number and phone number, with interested? and not interested columns beside them. This was for efficiency and effectiveness of the mission. It seemed a little CIA to me, but what the hell did I know? They were all just strange faces to me and I was doing my job.
Then I would go back to my dorm and start sorting. Freshman or Sophomore? Highlight and add to the spreadsheet. Junior or Senior? Ex out. There was a strategy and juniors and seniors don’t have the time we need to grow them into leaders. One name, I don’t remember it now, went into the sophomore category with a star to give her a call. I set up a tea at a quaint little tea house near the campus. She decided to bring eight friends. The nine of us sat around a table eating wasabi peas and drinking tea while they practiced their conversational English. I asked them questions like…”What is your favorite hobby?” “What is your major?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” and “Where is your hometown?” Finally I tried some deeper questions. “What is success to you?” Most of the girls said money. If they can have more money that will show that they are successful. One girl, who was not very outspoken until this moment, said firmly “I do not think money means success. There are many things in life more important than money.” I found out her name was Judy as we talked more on lighter subjects. The next day I sent her a text to see if she wanted to meet for lunch.
A few days later we were at a little soup place near campus eating a bowl of noodles and pig liver soup. I gulped down bite by bite with a fake pleasant smile on my face and tried to get to know my new friend Judy. I asked about her family, where they lived, are they close...”I know many Chinese are Buddhist, is your family?”
“Only my grandmother, we are taught in school that there is no God, just to believe in ourselves.”
This is a phrase I had heard a few times already. “Judy, is this what you believe?” I ask.
“No, I do not think I believe this.”
I’m intrigued…”What do you believe?”
She answers, “I believe..” long pause as she searches for the english word… “Christianity.”
My spoon drops into my bowl and I try not to appear shocked as I try to get to the bottom of this. I ask if her parents are Christians…no…does she have friends who are Christians…no…does she know or has she known any Christian believers…no. Huh? Her dad knew a Christian once, maybe they worked together. He came home one day with a Bible that his friend gave him. She didn’t think her dad ever picked it up or looked at it. But she couldn’t help herself…she started reading it. And then an amazing thing happened…she believed it.
As I’m piecing together her amazing story, I feel my spirit pull away from myself and look down on the two of us at a soup place..in a random city…in China…and I wonder what God is seeing. Tears filling my eyes, I tell her that I am a Christian too, and that means we are sisters. She smiles, her calm sweet smile, then her brain starts working, “Can you teach me the Bible? There is so much that I don’t understand.” I only spent the last six months praying, preparing, raising $30,000 and training for this exact scenario. “Sure, I can probably make some time in my schedule for that.”
Over the next few months I walked her through the verses that tell you about personally receiving Christ into your heart…what that means and looks like. Then for the next year and a half she would come over and study the Bible with me once a week. She would soak it up and she grew in wisdom and maturity in faith so quickly. She is the quiet leader type. A soft and compassionate spirit, with a firm solid belief and a quick, intelligent mind. She’s the kind that fits twice as much in her day as everyone else, but is half as stressed. She is calm and sure. I learned so much from her.
By the time I left, she was leading friends and classmates to Christ and during her senior year, when I was back at home, she lead her own Bible studies and trained other girls. She is still involved with some campus ministry and volunteers at an orphanage regularly. I can’t believe I got to have her in my life. When I look back on that prayer I prayed in LA, I couldn’t have imagined how God was going to answer it. He did all the work, I just got to be there to witness it. He knew he had a daughter stranded alone in a dark city, so he picked me up out of America and plopped me down in front of her one day. Kristyn, meet Judy. Judy, meet Kristyn. I’ve been preparing you both for this day.
That said, I am going to attempt a story that needs to be told. Its probably the most remarkable thing that has happened in my life…or has been revealed to me at this point. Its about a girl named Judy… at least that was the name her first English teacher gave her. Her real name is Ji Jing Jie.
I have written some about my path to China. Like many people who go overseas, I felt inadequate to go. Like I wasn’t at the level I needed to be. Funny, that makes me think of Mario Brothers. I was at level three and somehow found a way to make a hole in the roof, breezed over the top of it and next thing I knew I was at level eight…without fireballs…and I was scared. Honestly, I never had a heart for the world. I still don’t…not really. I had done a missions class for a semester in college where I learned about all the things going on in the world, but mostly we just listened to stories from real people about their experiences. I truly believe, no amount of pleading for the souls of people, or descriptions of poverty and bereavement would ever have convinced me to be a missionary. Unfortunately, I’m not that compassionate. But when I heard story after story about what God was doing all over the world, people who had suffered and been tortured for the gospel, it got me excited…not to save people, but to get caught up in the flow of His mighty works in this big world.
I would go back home to my little world of business classes, sorority meetings and movie nights, and I knew there was something much bigger out there if I had the guts to try. Ultimately we all live in our own little world, whether its in Slovakia or Corsicana, we’re just little people. I just wanted to witness God in a bigger way…catch a glimpse of His glory with a wider lens. But I was afraid about any expectations there were about MY role in all of this. There are certain underlying assumptions that people have about missionaries…that they have a mission, for instance…or some deep love for the nations, or at least the specific people they are ministering to…or that they are ministering at all. These things made me nervous.
The week before our team got on the plane for China, we had a briefing in California. Hundreds of young people from all over the States gathered and prepared to go to East Asia. They gave us a whole day to be alone and in prayer. I went down to the beach and had a long conversation with the Lord about what was going to happen. I don’t remember much about it, but what I do remember was asking to be used by him like a tool. I was very aware that I didn’t have much to offer and the thought of going over there to save people didn’t sit well in my soul. A hammer can’t do anything without a person to lift it and exert some sort of power behind it. So I just asked God to do big things…and if he got around to it… to use me to do it. I was already going to be there anyway. The whole idea that God would use me, when he could just use a sunset or a rock to speak of His love and grace for the world, was pretty humbling. I’m not sure what I expected, but I knew even with the best training, ultimately I was me. I also asked God to make His work evident, because I tend to take credit for a lot of things He does.
Fast-forward about a month and I’m walking around on my new campus, trying to ignore the heat, and looking for Chinese girls that I could meet briefly and write their name and number in my little book. Little did they know I would eventually create an excel spreadsheet on a hidden drive in my computer with their Chinese name, English name, class, dorm number, room number and phone number, with interested? and not interested columns beside them. This was for efficiency and effectiveness of the mission. It seemed a little CIA to me, but what the hell did I know? They were all just strange faces to me and I was doing my job.
Then I would go back to my dorm and start sorting. Freshman or Sophomore? Highlight and add to the spreadsheet. Junior or Senior? Ex out. There was a strategy and juniors and seniors don’t have the time we need to grow them into leaders. One name, I don’t remember it now, went into the sophomore category with a star to give her a call. I set up a tea at a quaint little tea house near the campus. She decided to bring eight friends. The nine of us sat around a table eating wasabi peas and drinking tea while they practiced their conversational English. I asked them questions like…”What is your favorite hobby?” “What is your major?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” and “Where is your hometown?” Finally I tried some deeper questions. “What is success to you?” Most of the girls said money. If they can have more money that will show that they are successful. One girl, who was not very outspoken until this moment, said firmly “I do not think money means success. There are many things in life more important than money.” I found out her name was Judy as we talked more on lighter subjects. The next day I sent her a text to see if she wanted to meet for lunch.
A few days later we were at a little soup place near campus eating a bowl of noodles and pig liver soup. I gulped down bite by bite with a fake pleasant smile on my face and tried to get to know my new friend Judy. I asked about her family, where they lived, are they close...”I know many Chinese are Buddhist, is your family?”
“Only my grandmother, we are taught in school that there is no God, just to believe in ourselves.”
This is a phrase I had heard a few times already. “Judy, is this what you believe?” I ask.
“No, I do not think I believe this.”
I’m intrigued…”What do you believe?”
She answers, “I believe..” long pause as she searches for the english word… “Christianity.”
My spoon drops into my bowl and I try not to appear shocked as I try to get to the bottom of this. I ask if her parents are Christians…no…does she have friends who are Christians…no…does she know or has she known any Christian believers…no. Huh? Her dad knew a Christian once, maybe they worked together. He came home one day with a Bible that his friend gave him. She didn’t think her dad ever picked it up or looked at it. But she couldn’t help herself…she started reading it. And then an amazing thing happened…she believed it.
As I’m piecing together her amazing story, I feel my spirit pull away from myself and look down on the two of us at a soup place..in a random city…in China…and I wonder what God is seeing. Tears filling my eyes, I tell her that I am a Christian too, and that means we are sisters. She smiles, her calm sweet smile, then her brain starts working, “Can you teach me the Bible? There is so much that I don’t understand.” I only spent the last six months praying, preparing, raising $30,000 and training for this exact scenario. “Sure, I can probably make some time in my schedule for that.”
Over the next few months I walked her through the verses that tell you about personally receiving Christ into your heart…what that means and looks like. Then for the next year and a half she would come over and study the Bible with me once a week. She would soak it up and she grew in wisdom and maturity in faith so quickly. She is the quiet leader type. A soft and compassionate spirit, with a firm solid belief and a quick, intelligent mind. She’s the kind that fits twice as much in her day as everyone else, but is half as stressed. She is calm and sure. I learned so much from her.
By the time I left, she was leading friends and classmates to Christ and during her senior year, when I was back at home, she lead her own Bible studies and trained other girls. She is still involved with some campus ministry and volunteers at an orphanage regularly. I can’t believe I got to have her in my life. When I look back on that prayer I prayed in LA, I couldn’t have imagined how God was going to answer it. He did all the work, I just got to be there to witness it. He knew he had a daughter stranded alone in a dark city, so he picked me up out of America and plopped me down in front of her one day. Kristyn, meet Judy. Judy, meet Kristyn. I’ve been preparing you both for this day.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Sound
Ever since the election last night there has been this sound in my head. What is that sound? I watched last night as John McCain graciously accepted his loss to Barack Obama, and though I don’t think McCain is the perfect candidate and though we were prepared for his loss, it struck me afresh what a great President we are losing.
And then I watched as Obama stood in front of hundreds of thousands of people and accepted his election. As the cameras panned across the audience of starry-eyed youths, proud black voters and Oprah clinging to the man in front of her and swaying to the music in her head, my emotions were stirred. I decided at that moment to rejoice with our nation in our first black president. I soaked in the stories from grown black men with tears in their eyes saying they never believed it would actually happen, and the story of the 106 year old lady who lived through segregation to see a day when a black man is the leader of our country…and she was able to vote for him. I rejoiced last night, but still the sound in my head remained. What is that sound? I never doubted whether a black man could be a great president, not the way I have doubted whether a woman could be a great president. It warmed my heart to see what seemed to be the entire nation in united celebration over an Obama victory. But I can’t help but wonder if in their blind pursuit of a historic moment, they missed what he was saying all along. Have the stars in their eyes kept them from seeing that he stands for things that America has long fought against, and in fact, they themselves find abhorrent?
When I listen to Obama, I too want to fall behind him. He has often been compared to a preacher, but then again he seems to disdain all things related to the church and Christianity… which I can honestly relate to, though unlike him I am unwaveringly pro life, among other things. So I like to think of him more like the leader of a service organization. I think Barack Obama would be great as the head of Red Cross, The Salvation Army, or the Peace Corp. He has great ideas on helping people, and a true heart of charity…something anyone would want in a president. But when you start infusing these ideas into the government, that’s when things get a little screwy.
The desire to end world poverty and hunger is shared unanimously by everyone across the globe except a small percentage of narcissistic a**holes. Wouldn’t it be great, as Obama says, to take the left-overs of those with too much and hand it to those without enough? If there is enough wealth for the whole world to be satisfied, why would we put up with poverty? But what happens when my government wants to give to something it deems as a charity, but I don’t agree. I want to extend charity on my children’s college fund, or on the local women’s shelter. But I don’t have that right anymore. The money I earned is not mine to spend. Those in charge…the elect know how to spend my money better. We elect people to make our decisions for us, right? Maybe I’m scraping by and barely able to make ends meet with two jobs and it dawns on me…I can quit my jobs and let the government take care of me. Ambition out the window…I am staying home all day. Workers aren’t working, the bosses are having to cough up the money they earned working eighty hour weeks and long nights to support people who just don’t put in any effort. Read economic crisis. Wealth stops being created…poverty grows on a larger scale than before.
Spreading the wealth around has never been an American ideal. In America, you work hard, knowing that hard work pays and its there for anyone. In America, we are free to compete with each other because competition creates better and more efficient products and in turn creates more jobs and a better economy and a better life for all who are a part of it. In America, we choose our churches of any faith and within that church we organize to end the poverty around us…because most (not all) faiths have a dogma of charity. But that is our freedom, just as it is our freedom to be narcissistic a**holes who never give a dime to anyone but ourselves. And you know what? That’s fair.
Again the sound…like a giant vacuum. This morning the sound became clear. That’s the sound of many of the freedoms I have long taken for granted being sucked away. My world yesterday was a lot more free than my world today. My small business is in more jeopardy today than it was yesterday. When I saw John McCain walk off the stage last night, a war hero, a dedicated and proven American to the core, and a highly experienced politician, defeated…I could not help but think “Oh God, what have we done?” But pushing all that aside and facing the fears that lay ahead of me I will pause and be thankful for our new black president. I still have a twinkle of hope in my eye because I know he is a good man.
And then I watched as Obama stood in front of hundreds of thousands of people and accepted his election. As the cameras panned across the audience of starry-eyed youths, proud black voters and Oprah clinging to the man in front of her and swaying to the music in her head, my emotions were stirred. I decided at that moment to rejoice with our nation in our first black president. I soaked in the stories from grown black men with tears in their eyes saying they never believed it would actually happen, and the story of the 106 year old lady who lived through segregation to see a day when a black man is the leader of our country…and she was able to vote for him. I rejoiced last night, but still the sound in my head remained. What is that sound? I never doubted whether a black man could be a great president, not the way I have doubted whether a woman could be a great president. It warmed my heart to see what seemed to be the entire nation in united celebration over an Obama victory. But I can’t help but wonder if in their blind pursuit of a historic moment, they missed what he was saying all along. Have the stars in their eyes kept them from seeing that he stands for things that America has long fought against, and in fact, they themselves find abhorrent?
When I listen to Obama, I too want to fall behind him. He has often been compared to a preacher, but then again he seems to disdain all things related to the church and Christianity… which I can honestly relate to, though unlike him I am unwaveringly pro life, among other things. So I like to think of him more like the leader of a service organization. I think Barack Obama would be great as the head of Red Cross, The Salvation Army, or the Peace Corp. He has great ideas on helping people, and a true heart of charity…something anyone would want in a president. But when you start infusing these ideas into the government, that’s when things get a little screwy.
The desire to end world poverty and hunger is shared unanimously by everyone across the globe except a small percentage of narcissistic a**holes. Wouldn’t it be great, as Obama says, to take the left-overs of those with too much and hand it to those without enough? If there is enough wealth for the whole world to be satisfied, why would we put up with poverty? But what happens when my government wants to give to something it deems as a charity, but I don’t agree. I want to extend charity on my children’s college fund, or on the local women’s shelter. But I don’t have that right anymore. The money I earned is not mine to spend. Those in charge…the elect know how to spend my money better. We elect people to make our decisions for us, right? Maybe I’m scraping by and barely able to make ends meet with two jobs and it dawns on me…I can quit my jobs and let the government take care of me. Ambition out the window…I am staying home all day. Workers aren’t working, the bosses are having to cough up the money they earned working eighty hour weeks and long nights to support people who just don’t put in any effort. Read economic crisis. Wealth stops being created…poverty grows on a larger scale than before.
Spreading the wealth around has never been an American ideal. In America, you work hard, knowing that hard work pays and its there for anyone. In America, we are free to compete with each other because competition creates better and more efficient products and in turn creates more jobs and a better economy and a better life for all who are a part of it. In America, we choose our churches of any faith and within that church we organize to end the poverty around us…because most (not all) faiths have a dogma of charity. But that is our freedom, just as it is our freedom to be narcissistic a**holes who never give a dime to anyone but ourselves. And you know what? That’s fair.
Again the sound…like a giant vacuum. This morning the sound became clear. That’s the sound of many of the freedoms I have long taken for granted being sucked away. My world yesterday was a lot more free than my world today. My small business is in more jeopardy today than it was yesterday. When I saw John McCain walk off the stage last night, a war hero, a dedicated and proven American to the core, and a highly experienced politician, defeated…I could not help but think “Oh God, what have we done?” But pushing all that aside and facing the fears that lay ahead of me I will pause and be thankful for our new black president. I still have a twinkle of hope in my eye because I know he is a good man.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
The Montage
Just got home from the ranch. Home smells sweet and feels a lot let stuffy than it did when I left. I was only gone for three days and yet I feel like everything is different somehow. I have a slightly new perspective on life and a desire to set some goals for myself.
Life has been a bit foggy lately. I still don’t know how to sort through the stuff going on in my head. Like a montage in a movie. You know, the brief period in the story when the key song in the soundtrack turns up and you watch the main character doing an assortment of things in different clothes or in different seasons to show the passing of time. Like in Notting Hill when Hugh Grant is going through the market to “Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.” There are no concrete details of their life, but you get the general idea that time is passing.
I guess I’m going through a montage phase. Not a gloomy montage like the one in Notting Hill, though. And not necessarily a happy cheery one, like in 13 going on 30 when she walks through the park eating ice cream and generally enjoying her adulthood to “A Good Day.” I would just be working at the shop selling coffee, enjoying my job and talking to people, sitting on patios with friends, laying by a pool, walking by the lake. And in the mean time, nothing really is going on in my head that I can make any sense of. I’m just sort of floating into this new phase of life. Maybe I’m learning the new rhythm of my life and I have to check out for a while before any of it will make any sense. It’s all so different but it’s becoming my new normal.
What would my montage song be? Maybe “Dazed and Confused” by Led Zeppelin, or “You’ve got a Friend” by James Taylor, but probably “Everything Has Changed” by Lucinda Williams…though its probably a little more somber than I actually feel.
So I’ve returned from two different trips. One was a quick trip with the girls to wide open land, a star filled sky, and an audible silence. The other was the trip my mind took about a month ago to the Land of Fog. Life is fresh again. And it’s starting to make some sense. I can’t let these times pass me by…they’re all way too precious.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
The Conversation
I know I need to have this conversation, so I’m going to have it. C.S. Lewis says that if you want things to change, you pretend like they already have and pretty soon they will. Or something like that. This conversation will be an attempt at being someone I’m not…or haven’t been until now in hopes that I will become that person someday. But when I really think about it, I’m not so sure I even want to be that person…or I guess I just don’t know what it looks like on me.
So maybe this is like the dressing room, I’m going to try on this attribute and see how I like it on me.
Things always look better on the mannequin.
In China, the best and worst part of my two years there was my team. We called it the team but we played so many roles in each other’s lives. Family…making cakes for birthdays, sitting at a long table together at Thanksgiving, opening presents together at Christmas, tucking kids in bed, family dinners. Co-workers…taking tasks and splitting them up, working together toward goals, long meetings, hashing through strategic methods and vision casting. Classmates…sitting for hours on end being compared to each other by brutal teachers…”No, that’s wrong. Listen to Zack..he says it right. He is a better student.” Church friends…the nine of us huddled together in a living room singing lightly to the guitar and listening to a recording of our home pastor on someone’s laptop. Roommates…sharing bathrooms, taking turns getting water down the hall, paying electricity bills, who gets the TV, who needs to just talk in the middle of the night. And friends…watching movies together, going to dinner, traveling, riding bikes. Just nine of us…for two years.
We knew each other pretty well.
Each year we had a review done…just like a normal job. It was called the 360 because it was supposed to evaluate everything about you. The worst part of it was that the people doing the evaluation really knew me and everything about me.
The word that kept popping up on my review that kind of encompassed the majority of my issues was “vulnerability.” Apparently I had none.
I’ve spent a long time since then trying to figure out what that really means and what it looks like. I mean, I’m pretty open…not a closed off person. I know how to bond with people and be a friend. What’s the difference between being open and being vulnerable?
I assume it has something to do with pride, which I have been aware of for a while. Not wanting people to know I have problems. Phrasing what I’m going through in ways that make people believe I have it all under control…that I don’t need help. If I let someone know that I have hopes and dreams, that I have desires…and they aren’t met, I will be pitied. I refuse to be pitied.
But as I’ve thought about it more and more, I think it has a lot more to do with insecurities than pride. Feeling that people won’t accept me if they know I have problems…so I guess insecurities hinge on trust. I have to get to a place where I trust people enough to let them into my problems. To think highly enough of others to believe that they won’t run away or reject me….or annoy me.
The unvulnerable person builds up walls around different parts of them, so they can never be fully known. And the one thing they really want…to be liked and accepted…becomes impossible because the opportunity hasn’t been given. No one can accept something they aren’t given. They isolate themselves without even knowing it. Enter loneliness, fear, more insecurities, higher walls.
The vulnerable person is fully known. They let others into their hopes and dreams…then they have someone there when those dreams fall apart and someone there to celebrate when they are met. When one person rejects a side of who they are, they have a whole slew of others right by them who know them and love them anyway.
We cannot possibly build self-esteem on our own. Self-esteem doesn’t have much to do with self, I don’t think. We derive it from others, and more importantly from what we give to others. And the giver is never pitied.
For many, this is probably Relationships 101, but for me this is revolutionary. I feel like I’m getting it down more in my friendships…letting them in and reaping the benefits of closer friendships built on truth. The kind of rock solid friends that will stand the test of time. But I have so much to learn when it comes to relationship with…well…guys. This is where we catch back up to the conversation I need to have. I guess I just don’t trust them as much…which could be part of the whole “guarding my heart” mentality. But what’s so different about that and building up walls? I guess we’re supposed to be so wary of guys because they’re all out to get our virginity. What’s wrong with being open and honest…and there are some guys I really want to have a true, rock solid friendship with. The conversation that I need to have puts me in a very vulnerable position with a guy friend of mine. And I am stepping out of who I am naturally inclined to be in the hopes that I will come out with a great friend and not just a good one. Potentially it could just be very awkward, though. Dressing rooms are always awkward.
In the end, if I can have the confidence to say I’m open to risking rejection for the gain of intimacy…then that will be some real growth. For now, I just need to get through this conversation.
So maybe this is like the dressing room, I’m going to try on this attribute and see how I like it on me.
Things always look better on the mannequin.
In China, the best and worst part of my two years there was my team. We called it the team but we played so many roles in each other’s lives. Family…making cakes for birthdays, sitting at a long table together at Thanksgiving, opening presents together at Christmas, tucking kids in bed, family dinners. Co-workers…taking tasks and splitting them up, working together toward goals, long meetings, hashing through strategic methods and vision casting. Classmates…sitting for hours on end being compared to each other by brutal teachers…”No, that’s wrong. Listen to Zack..he says it right. He is a better student.” Church friends…the nine of us huddled together in a living room singing lightly to the guitar and listening to a recording of our home pastor on someone’s laptop. Roommates…sharing bathrooms, taking turns getting water down the hall, paying electricity bills, who gets the TV, who needs to just talk in the middle of the night. And friends…watching movies together, going to dinner, traveling, riding bikes. Just nine of us…for two years.
We knew each other pretty well.
Each year we had a review done…just like a normal job. It was called the 360 because it was supposed to evaluate everything about you. The worst part of it was that the people doing the evaluation really knew me and everything about me.
The word that kept popping up on my review that kind of encompassed the majority of my issues was “vulnerability.” Apparently I had none.
I’ve spent a long time since then trying to figure out what that really means and what it looks like. I mean, I’m pretty open…not a closed off person. I know how to bond with people and be a friend. What’s the difference between being open and being vulnerable?
I assume it has something to do with pride, which I have been aware of for a while. Not wanting people to know I have problems. Phrasing what I’m going through in ways that make people believe I have it all under control…that I don’t need help. If I let someone know that I have hopes and dreams, that I have desires…and they aren’t met, I will be pitied. I refuse to be pitied.
But as I’ve thought about it more and more, I think it has a lot more to do with insecurities than pride. Feeling that people won’t accept me if they know I have problems…so I guess insecurities hinge on trust. I have to get to a place where I trust people enough to let them into my problems. To think highly enough of others to believe that they won’t run away or reject me….or annoy me.
The unvulnerable person builds up walls around different parts of them, so they can never be fully known. And the one thing they really want…to be liked and accepted…becomes impossible because the opportunity hasn’t been given. No one can accept something they aren’t given. They isolate themselves without even knowing it. Enter loneliness, fear, more insecurities, higher walls.
The vulnerable person is fully known. They let others into their hopes and dreams…then they have someone there when those dreams fall apart and someone there to celebrate when they are met. When one person rejects a side of who they are, they have a whole slew of others right by them who know them and love them anyway.
We cannot possibly build self-esteem on our own. Self-esteem doesn’t have much to do with self, I don’t think. We derive it from others, and more importantly from what we give to others. And the giver is never pitied.
For many, this is probably Relationships 101, but for me this is revolutionary. I feel like I’m getting it down more in my friendships…letting them in and reaping the benefits of closer friendships built on truth. The kind of rock solid friends that will stand the test of time. But I have so much to learn when it comes to relationship with…well…guys. This is where we catch back up to the conversation I need to have. I guess I just don’t trust them as much…which could be part of the whole “guarding my heart” mentality. But what’s so different about that and building up walls? I guess we’re supposed to be so wary of guys because they’re all out to get our virginity. What’s wrong with being open and honest…and there are some guys I really want to have a true, rock solid friendship with. The conversation that I need to have puts me in a very vulnerable position with a guy friend of mine. And I am stepping out of who I am naturally inclined to be in the hopes that I will come out with a great friend and not just a good one. Potentially it could just be very awkward, though. Dressing rooms are always awkward.
In the end, if I can have the confidence to say I’m open to risking rejection for the gain of intimacy…then that will be some real growth. For now, I just need to get through this conversation.
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