Why I share...

A friend asked a question today after Mass  about the health of someone in my family, and was surprised by the lengthy answer I had for her.  She had thought something seemed different, but her question, which to me was full of meaning, had been to her (originally) something mentioned in passing.

This is a woman with whom I have shared many highs and lows, for both of us, and yet still I find myself questioning why am I so frank, sometimes, about things going on in my life?  The fact that I can actually blog about so many things serves as proof that I do open my life up, perhaps more than most.  I do not do this in person with people with whom I do not share a relationship.  And I have discovered, through trial and error, that some people or relationships are not the right places to share my struggles at all.  But still, the question remains for me, why let any people in on the tough things we face?  Isn't that private?  Why should we let anyone in on our pain?

My answer is twofold: community, and redemption.

Now, let me be clear that when I talk about sharing struggles, I do not mean forcing people to listen to a sob story.  I simply mean admitting, in appropriate situations, that you could use prayers, or some other form of help, even if it is just a listening ear.

This is humbling.  But it opens up the door of community.  It allows people to serve us.  And as one good friend recently reminded me, in today's self-sufficient society, letting people help us actually can be like giving them a gift.  Because it does feel like a privilege when you get to do something caring for someone in your community.  If we never open ourselves up to receive help, how does anyone get the chance to grow in charity?

Secondly, God made us for community.  So when we, out of pride, refuse to acknowledge that we need help, or even prayer, we may be refusing one of the primary means by which He would like to help us.  There is something so uplifting about a short note, or a meal, or even a smile of encouragement!  Let's not allow pride to keep these physical forms of God's grace from pouring into our lives.

The redemption part comes in when we believe that God can and will use our sufferings for good.  Which means we can use our story to help tell people about God's goodness.  But even more powerful than hearing a story of God working amazing things in someone's life, is getting to walk alongside them as He is working.  And He is always working.

During my junior year, a tragic car accident took the life of the girl who had been my roommate during my first semester of college.  I was friends with the two other girls who had been in the car with her, and I remember visiting one of them in her dorm room a short time after the accident.  I wanted to tell her I could empathize with her loss.  By that point in my life, I already had lost my best friend in a car accident at 16, and a close 19-year-old cousin in a car accident just one year earlier.  Another friend died to meningitis a few months later.

Anyway, I wanted to tell her I understood, and that I would be there for her.  But sharing with her my own losses during her time of great sorrow  just came out the wrong way.  It put the focus on me, when all I wanted to do was reach out with some comfort.

If she had already known about my losses, it would have been easier.  I simply could have said, "I understand," and she would have known it was true.

I guess my point is this: We never know when those people we allow to see our struggles may face the same struggles themselves.  My hope is that seeing me hurt and fall and trying to walk by faith through the tough times will encourage those I love to do the same when their own trials come.  Perhaps knowing God was faithful in my situation will help them persevere in faith in their own situation.

If they never see someone trusting God, even in the darkness, how will they know it can be done?

I am currently reading a very informative book, called "Forming Intentional Disciples," by Sherry Weddell.  Weddell writes, "Unfortunately, most of us aren't spiritual geniuses.  If nobody around us ever talks about a given idea, we are no more likely to think of it spontaneously than we are to suddenly invent a new primary color.  To the extent that we don't talk with one another about discipleship, we make it very, very difficult for most Catholics to think about discipleship" (page 56).

She later adds, "It is difficult to believe in and live something that you have never heard anyone else talk about or seen anyone else live" (page 57).

We all struggle.  To willingly humble ourselves to admit we are hurting, and most importantly, to share how we are allowing God to walk with us, and the ways in which we see -- or are trying to see -- Him at work, perhaps will plant a seed in someone else's heart, and encourage them to look for Him in their struggles as well.  Perhaps it will remind them, when they most need it, that none of us is alone.

Perhaps the next time a friend or loved one asks how you are doing, you may consider answering with more than just, "Oh, fine."  Perhaps our best evangelization tool is our honesty.