Will You be My Friend?

As I sit at the table enjoying another bite of chicken, I smile. I can't believe how blessed I am to have other women around me. They are my friends. Companions with whom I can share life. The good, the bad, the ugly.

It wasn't always this way.

Have you ever felt like you were a fish outside of the fish bowl? Your hole body craves the refreshment and life that the water brings, but you just can't get back inside. The other fish look at you outside the bowl, but they can't help you get back in either. They are concerned from a distance, hoping that someone bigger than themselves will step in and save the day.

This was me in elementary school. In middle school. In high school. College. In my early years of marriage. At work. Motherhood. No matter where I went, I just couldn't quite fit in. What in the world was wrong with me?

Perspective.

As a kid in elementary school I always felt like the outsider. I went to a private Christian school from kindergarten through third grade. It seemed like all the families except mine had two parents - a mom and a dad. By default, I came from an abnormal family.

In middle school my mom kept me home. I didn't know any other homeschooled kids. I just knew that I was home. Alone. With my own thoughts. Too many thoughts.

In high school I felt like the only one who didn't know how to navigate through large hallways with a bag of books that felt like a ton of bricks. I didn't know where to sit when the seats weren't assigned. I fumbled to get the bricks out of my backpack. I didn't understand where I was or how the classroom was supposed to function with 30 rowdy students sitting on desks around me and speaking a foreign language filled with curse words.

Surely in college I would feel more comfortable. Adults were supposed to be more mature. But while I was mature and self-controlled, my peers had knowledge of things I had never heard of. My naivety shown through in embarrassing ways.

Some of that naivety wore off when I got married. I started to learn life lessons for myself instead of through the pages of books. But one thing I could never seem to learn was how to make friends and keep them.

I watched for years as my husband struck up random conversations with hundreds of different people. I watched as other ladies in Sunday school chatted about this and that while I sat helplessly at a loss for words. My mind just raced with all the new information I was receiving. I didn't have time to formulate words to return.

Was there something wrong with me?

I felt like the extra fork that comes with your meal so you can eat the salad first. But no one ordered salad. Everyone just wanted the main dish. "Here I am," I wanted to cry. "I have words. I have thoughts and ideas."

Silence.

So, I watched people. I studied them. I learned from them. Did you know how many emotions one can reveal on their face even while they aren't talking? I started to blank out the words and just look at the actions. What were people saying with their actions?

I saw loneliness, arrogance, sadness, joy, restlessness, persistence, endurance, selfishness, tenderness, creativity, and so much more. I could relate to so many of these emotions. I wanted to get them out into the open, but something inside me told me to hide. No body cares about what you feel. Nobody really wants to know what is inside you. Give the impression that everything is okay, and people will like you.

Oh, the lies I believed! Blend in, be normal, don't stand out.

What changed inside of me? Why is it that today I can have a beautiful conversation with friends when before my mouth was clamped shut?

My perspective changed about myself and others. I began to believe that my experiences had value. I believed that God gave me my life story to encourage someone else in a similar place. I stopped comparing myself with others. I didn't need to have the most painful or most happy story in order to share it. Even the mundane stuff matters. It's part of my life and my life matters to God. It should matter to others. And even if some don't think so, it is worth taking the risk to share it.

I used to think people just didn't care when they gave me blank stares. Instead I think, they have a lot on their plate right now. They don't know how to handle my story. Or, what I said just triggered something in their mind. It made them want to get something of their chest.

I look at people and I see needs, hurts, unfulfilled dreams, and a deep desire for hope. I see women that want intimacy with Christ, but feel trapped by life's demands.

I am so thankful that Jesus changed my perspective and showed me my value. My heart is His and He leads me into right thinking. He shows me the one hurting next to me. He gently reminds me when I'm the one hurt and I need to do a little forgiving.

If you find yourself in a season where you are outside of the fish bowl, pause for a moment. Stop flapping around. Let the Savior pick you up and place you back in the water.