Friday, February 20, 2009

I Did it.

I approved her as a friend.

I know.

My friend Mary thinks I'm crazy. She says I'm a better woman than she is.

It's really not that.

It's really hard to explain.

I kept seeing that friend request on there every time I logged in. And it was like a hit in the gut every time I saw it. But a little less each time.

But I would see comments she left for other Facebook Friends. And I wouldn't have the purest Christian thoughts.

And then last night when we told Abbie we weren't going to Dallas, she started crying. Abbie's clinging to a bit of the past that includes a friendship with my friend's son.

I told you our lives were entertwined.

This has been such a mess.

A mess that has lasted two years.

It's the fall-out of it all. Wider-ranging than we ever would have first thought. Not just two friendships that were affected, but several. On different levels.

And my kids were part of that fall-out.

But I hit confirm. And I have to be honest, when I saw the scripture posted on her page daily, I didn't have the best reaction.

Because it's hard for me to see that as genuine.

It's not my place to decide whether her heart is right or not.

But I struggle with that.

She was great at quoting scripture when we were friends. And had her eyes on Biggsy at the same time.

I thought it was genuine then. But I didn't know what was going on.

Now I do.

It's like a china plate that has been thrown against the wall.

Scattered pieces everywhere.

What goes where?

Do you put it back together?

Do you want to?

Is it even possible?

Is it worth it?

Would all the pieces ever go back together?

What about the one that flew under the china cabinet?

Or the one that landed in behind the trash can?

Or that one that's between the refrigerator and the cabinet?

Can we make it without those?

It wouldn't be complete.

And where is the glue?

I did it. I hit confirm.

If it gets to be too much, I can control the amount of news I get from her world.

But thinking back to my parents' divorce....

Because I had to see my Dad and work with him on a regular basis, I got past it faster and more thoroughly than everyone else.

I'm thinking that might be the case with this.

A little less of a punch each time.

Desensitized.

Numbed.

Maybe.

No comments: