the listening ear

About a year and half ago, there was a fallout between me and a good group of friends.  It was the group I have written about several times on my blogs.  I didn’t mention it here, because honestly, there was no way to talk about it in a way that seemed fair.

All anybody hears here is my side.

As I’ve thought about it more, as I sit down even to mention it now, it has helped me to realize what it is about writing that is so therapeutic.

The page listens.

Long story short, I have loosely held the hope, that somehow, in time, all of this could be mended.  Last night we had our friends over for supper.  Our kids ran around outside in the dark, pushing my nerves to the absolute limit.  There are certain things that set me off, that stress me out, and this is one of them.  My brain is unable to effectively decipher the differences in sound between loud harmless play and a medical emergency.

We talked about us, as women, owning who we are.  I am me–take me or leave me.  I, personally, believe in growth, in sanctification, and in maturing over time.  I believe in listening to others, hearing of where it was you think I was wrong, in having the heart to take a brutally honest look at myself.  I believe that I can change, and will change, and do change, but I am not going to change who I am to be somebody else that I am not.

I have struggled in life with being assertive.  As Jordan Peterson has taught me, I am high in Agreeableness, and pretty low in Conscientiousness.  Other people get frustrated with me when I seem unaware.  I get frustrated with people when I feel like I give and I accommodate, I commit and consider, and after seven years of bending, when I finally feel the urgency to communicate a need, no one seems to do the same things for me.

“Nobody knows what to do with your intensity”.

Honestly, I don’t know what to do with it either.  So I run into oceans with all of my clothes on.  I go on nature walks and play outside in the sun. I homeschool my kids for the pure joy and thrill of it.  I cry when I’m hurting or overwhelmed with life.

I pity the stray who so wants to come in.

She laughs with me still at all the cats we have now.

She listens.


People have loved me in the ways THEY show love.

It won’t always look like the ways I show love.


We grow and we stretch

we learn and we heal


It isn’t the same.

Time changes, life changes,

all this changing, changes us.


And somehow through it all

my heart can give thanks


for the goodness of God in this life is still there.



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