Much Ado

Recently, I found myself in the middle of a difficult situation with a handful of friends. In the interest of brevity, I will spare you all the gory details, but suffice it to say it was a sticky mess of misunderstanding and hurt feelings. It started simply enough--a couple of conversations where assumptions became reclassified as facts.

I am blessed with solid, mature friendships. I try to stay clear of drama, but when I received a phone call implicating me in part of the controversy, I did what I thought was wise--returning to the horses' mouths to clarify. It was awkward and a bit messy. I had to remind myself it was akin to telling someone their zipper is down, uncomfortable initially, but better for everyone in the long run.

For 2-3 days I was miserable. I was sad for the divisiveness, a bit defensive about the part that involved me, concerned for the feelings of those involved and resentful for all the drama that I found myself involved in. Just when I thought the truth had all come out and the dust was beginning to settle so we could all move on, two friends invited me for a conversation the next day. I was perplexed. I thought we had all said our piece and reached a peaceful place. I couldn't imagine what there could still be to talk about. So, my overactive imagination filled in the gaps.

For the next 18 hours, I went to every worst case scenario about what this 'meeting' might involve. I cried. I was nervous. I felt defensive. I read Scripture. I prayed. I rehearsed how I might react to various things they may say. At one point, I even got angry at them for what I anticipated being a case of 'ganging up' on me.

I really care about the people who were asking to meet with me. Had I been foolish? I am pretty self-aware and honest about my weaknesses/mistakes/sin. Did I really have a blindspot that great that I couldn't even conceive of what might necessitate such a meeting?

By the time they arrived at my house the next afternoon, I had put myself through the wringer and come back. I had praise music playing, Scripture handy, an encouraging text from my husband (who had also sent me flowers out of his concern). I had prayed my face off. I was exhausted and just ready for it to be over with.

You can imagine my reaction when we sat down to talk and one of the women announced: "We really just wanted to come sit down with you and check in with you about how your heart is feeling after all this. We want you to know how much we love you and appreciate you."

I waited for the hammer to be lowered. I kept expected a "But...." There was not one. They really were just tender hearted friends following up on what had been an emotionally draining week/situation.

I felt like an idiot. How much time had I wasted? How much energy had I spent? How many emotions (predominantly negative) had I allowed myself to entertain? The Enemy had gotten a foothold in my brain and heart and I had allowed him to have an absolute field day with my insecurities and fears.

Right there, on my living room floor I confessed that to my friends and to my Father.

This was a watershed moment in my adult life---a real life lesson in the danger of borrowing worry and filling in blanks prematurely.

Why are we so apt to do that? After praying about it I decided that for me it all comes back to control. When I do not know what might happen, going through all the worst case scenarios makes me feel somehow more prepared--like nothing can happen that I hadn't already considered. That is a lie. And it is harmful. Not just because of the wasted energy and emotion, but because my relationships were being harmed by my imagination. I had anticipated negative thoughts, feelings and responses that my friends never communicated. In essence, I had a 'fight' without the other side ever uttering a word.

Do I even need to mention that I was especially hormonal when all this was going on?

If there was ever any doubt of the chaos our thought lives can evoke, this was a big bright spotlight exposing an issue for me. As someone who doesn't pursue drama, I sure did manage to conjure some up in my brain.

I am so thankful for a grace-filled Father that picks us up off the floor when we have stumbled over our own two feet and encourages us to learn a lesson and try again.