Happy Face 8

I find it interesting, this dynamic that some Christians and others who tend to love too much often find ourselves trapped in, and often by total default. This is where we are naturally trying to make real the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi in our lives without preparing for the huge emotional blowback. Let me write it out for you here, Gentle Reader, in case you have forgotten it, do not know it, have never heard of St. Francis, or have never heard of prayer: "Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love, where there is injury, pardon, where there is doubt, faith, where there is despair, hope, where there is darkness, light, where there is sadness, joy. O divine master grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; To be loved as to love For it is in giving that we receive- and it's in pardoning that we are pardoned. And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen." Beautiful words to live by. Glorious words. And very difficult and costly words. Of course, any serious Christian who wants to practice their faith will accept this as a emplate for living. Discipleship 101. And I agree. But with such noble aspirations there is always the fine print and we seldom even know that it's there. This can also, if the fine print is ignored or disregarded, a blueprint for abusive relationships. The theme of this prayer is, of course, unconditional love, or to basically become everybody's pet doggie. Or does it have to be this way? I have already mentioned in recent posts about how I have so come to question a lot of my friendships that I am prepared to end them. This isn't to say that I am going to end these friendships, but they could well be going in that direction. Most of my friends, it seems, are completely useless at supporting me in times of trauma, even if I am going to be there for them. But our positions are unequal. They are all grounded in secure family and social networks. I have nothing. They are already nurtured. I have no one. They have no idea how good they have it, ignore me when I am going through trauma, and judge me for getting upset with them as being needy and dependant. They have no right to make this judgment because none of those losers have ever walked in my shoes. it rather makes me think that the Prayer of St. Francis is not really directed to people like me, but to my comfortable and already well-loved friends. When you consider the life and social class and background of Francis, this will make total sense. He was well connected and loved by his family, being also the son of a wealthy burgher. His family never abandoned him, but Francis abandoned his family. They still loved him and welcomed him, but he wanted to obey the call that God had on his life, so he joyously abandoned all for the Pearl of Greatest Price. Well and good. I didn't abandon my family. My family abandoned me. As have many of my friends. Leaving me particularly vulnerable and unsupported in life. The Prayer of St. Francis is not an instruction model for people who have already been kicked around and left bleeding on the pavement. It is for those who do the kicking. Knowing this takes a certain burden off my shoulders. I do not accept this as license to turn into a callous douchebag. For me this is salutary for helping me discern and define my role in life as a Christian who has suffered abuse and trauma. This also persuades me that I also have rights: a right to be loved and accepted, a right for connection, a right to belong. Such things of course can never be enforced, and are going to be completely at the behest and goodwill of others and this is frightening because it makes persons like me particularly and egregiously vulnerable. I do not believe that I will ever enjoy with any of those people something resembling an equal relationship. Being unmoored makes on perpetually needy, and vulnerable to the cruel judgment of those who have never had and never will have a clue. And chances are, if any of my dear "friends" were afflicted with the losses and deprivations that I have had to live with, that they wouldn't be able to cope. As much as these things have harmed me, they have not broken me, but have also given me a strength that I don't think a lot of my privileged friends can lay claim to. But now I accept that I owe them nothing. I think I can make new friends, but the ground rules are changing. I no longer need smug idiots in my life, and even if I have a few years of suicidal depression for Christmases to come, I will somehow get through this, and I will find people who are really worthy of my friendship. This isn't going to be easy.