Raising Magnolias

I’m emotional.

And maybe strung a little tight.

And slightly sensitive.

And I tend to re-act.

Or, ya know, over-react.

And Taylor Swift has a new song.

Shake it off.

But I care that they haters gonna hate.

And I stink at shaking.

And then there’s Elsa.

Let it go.

And we sing it.

All day long.

With hairbrush-microphones and super-sweet dance moves.

And there’s an Elsa costume for $139 that Emma Claire simply must have.

One hundred and thirty-nine dollars.

For a costume.

Anyway.

Somedays this job of being a grown-up really stinks because maybe we never really grow up.

And I think about my favorite quote, from Maya Angelou.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

And I wish that were easier.

I wish husbands (and wives for that matter) that said, “I do”, really did.

I wish friends that you trusted were actually trusted friends.

I wish and I wish and wishing does no good.

So I pray.

Come, Lord Jesus.

My feelings were hurt this week.

And I was embarrassed.

So.

I did what any sane, rational, 41 year-old woman would do.

I un-friended friends on Facebook.

I know.

Did I mention the overreacting tendency?

But here’s what I’m learning.

The hard and super slow way.

And I’ve read it a hundred times.

Proverbs 18:24

“A man of many friends comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”

I love my sticky friends.

Coulter calls them “framily.”

There’s another translation that says, “A man that has unreliable friends comes to ruin.”

Ruin.

And I’m working so hard to be still.

To be quiet.

And know that He is God.

For almost 15 years, I let the hard stuff go.

And each morning, I would shake it off.

Day after day.

Slowly I found my voice and I made a choice.

This.

For my children. For myself.

I will not.

Just.

Let it go.

And so I speak up. Like, ya know, all the time.

And I’m loud.

And sometimes I do stupid things like un-friend my friends on Facebook but I won’t go back and I won’t slip back and so, no.

If it hurts my children; if it hurts my family; if it hurts me—I probably won’t just let it go.

I’m a wear-my-feelings-like-a-diamond around my neck and I humbly let them show.

Broken trust isn’t easily shaken off.

No matter how hard I swing my hips.

And who am I kidding. This white girl’s hips don’t swing.

Is ‘let it go’ really the lesson?

Children living in poverty?

Let it go.

Kids being bulled?

Racism? Abuse?

Whatever.

Shake it off.

No. That can’t be the lesson.

My children see my heart. They know what makes me cry and what makes me mad and what makes me laugh out loud and they know my heart.

And when they see the wrong and see the hurt and when they hear of wars and bombs and our brothers and sisters in Christ tormented and killed for their beliefs, well.

I want them to feel it.

To lean into it.

And ultimately.

Bind the Word around their hearts and never.

Ever.

Let it go.