Pic via @mybeautifulafrica_
I call you. I hear you slurring your words as you answer. I dismiss the image of you sprawled wherever you are, drink in hand, eyes glazed over. I tell you it’s me, and you cheerily greet me. I cringe. I tell you the purpose of my call, and as you respond, I can almost see you striving to not slur your words; the deliberateness of your words, yet not so deliberate; the slowness of your speech, your odd breathing… I want to ask you what I already know, but I stop myself. It’s none of my business. You stun me with the next words that come out of your mouth: “I adore you!”
I mutter an awkward thank you, and quickly get off the phone.
I could say much about this interaction. I almost expect it every time I have to call you. Once upon a time I’d sit and think about why this is so; why this has to be a common theme with you. But I’ve learned to back off. I end up thinking about what needs to be done rather than what is happening. I think about the work required and where a person ought to be, rather than dealing with things as they are. And so, I leave things as they are. I leave you as you are. And I hope one day soon a braver soul than I can ask why this is a consistent thing for you, that at any moment I call, I get a slurred, incoherent version of you. And perhaps they can be there to really listen, and they can exercise the patience, understanding and the appropriate boundaries needed for such a thing. I don’t want to assume, and that’s why I back off. It’s why I get what I need and hang up. It’s why I do not kick up a fuss. I’m tired of kicking up a fuss and being misunderstood. Accused of judgement. Accused of misunderstanding. I have to learn not to care. I have to learn not to step into territory that isn’t mine. But I know also that even if it’s unfamiliar territory, when called upon, the point is not to impose my own expectations. I can only offer assistance when I am able. I can only point to the right direction. I can only be present in as much as I am able and comfortable; not because I am judging you, but sometimes people do more harm than good trying to be the saviour. In seeing you drown, I do not want to drown. In watching the life rope I throw at you be dismissed and looked down upon, I can only watch, and hope that God intervenes, and sends a strong swimmer to help you. I want you to be well.
This is not what God intended for you. It’s not what you intended for yourself, either.
And perhaps you are not strong enough to face what is holding you down, and it’s ok. But reach out to the one who can. Be selfish. Cling to the hem of his garment, not because you deserve it, but because you need to get well, get back on your feet. This life is not what you intended and he is the only answer. You can’t help yourself so ask that he helps you. Demand that he helps you.
But of course, only if you want it. Only if you want to take that step.
I’m not going to say do it when you are ready. A day may never come for your readiness. You may be ready every day and not be brave enough to fulfill that readiness.
And really, is being ready more important than being free?
*SoulTea*
