After my divorce, (yes, the d-word exists in my life - and I TYPED IT OUT LOUD . . . you can deal with it or move on, see first sentence) I moved back to my hometown. My small, religious, tight-knit community. Scary? Um, yes? Read again - small, religious, tight-knit (everyone knows everything about everyone) community. I had person after person after person offer me help from little tiny things to very big things. I felt very included, loved, taken care of, supported, and the list goes on and on. But - I also knew that I was very likely "the topic" of discussion before my arrival and for some time after it. I did, after all, spend 18 years of my life here before college. I kind of know the place. (And love it). ;)
One evening, I was talking with a "friend". Said friend (there's that "said" again) was showing genuine interest in my well-being and having a pleasant conversation with me. It was . . . nice. However, over time, the questions became more direct. Reactions more incredulous. And I was suddenly faced with the realization that the "interest" in my life may have been mostly for the nitty-gritty.
For those of you who know me well, you know I don't dish nitty-gritty. If anyone is currently reading this post, or continuing to return to this blog, with the hopes of obtaining juicy details about my personal life, you will be disappointed ten-fold. That is not, has never been, and will never be, my style. So move along.
The conversation with my "friend" innocently turned to a recent visit to my alma mater for a basketball game. I mentioned that I needed to get something to drink at the concession stand and noted that walking out of the gym would have drawn a lot of attention to myself. I remember, even now, thinking - I could wait until halftime and no one would even notice. Or - I could walk out of the gym with my chin up, a smile on my face, meet every gaze in the eyes and not worry about the fact that people were likely talking. I chose the latter, knowing full well the following were rattling around the gym:
Hey - did you hear about her?
Did you know she moved back?
Did you hear what happened?
Did you know she's divorced?
I relayed this decision to my "friend", specifically acknowledging that I was aware the above conversations likely resulted. And that what people did or didn't chose to say about me ultimately just didn't matter. It didn't change who I was. Who I am. I was pretty stinkin' proud of myself at that time and even recalling the details and telling my "friend" made me feel good. Then, I heard this:
Oh, good! I mean, I was gonna say - I'm glad you went ahead and did it, but yeah, I was thinking of course people are talking! I didn't want you to be crazy and think that nobody's saying anything! (laugh)
Yeah. Um, yeah. What do you say to that? What would you say to that? What I said was something along the lines of "Well, like I said, I knew they probably were. And I can't control what others say or think about me." I then became reserved in my responses and sooner than expected, moved on from the conversation. That was one tiny example from the larger conversation, but illustrates the evening fairly well.
Telling this story is not to berate my "friend". Who he or she is, is not important. The story simply explains how I truly learned that what other people think about me doesn't matter. I don't put weight in the fact that this person may think I deserve to be discussed by the larger community because my "sin" isn't one of the "more accepted" ones. (The quotes are placed with purpose).
Yes, I'm divorced. No, I don't think I need to tell you why. And no, I don't think that I'm a less-deserving human being because of it. And none of any of the absolutely amazing people that I know who are also divorced are any less-deserving of love or ANYTHING else because of it either. You don't know anything about someone from one of their labels: mom, dad, sister, brother, lawyer, teacher, divorcee. Nope.
Who I am is all wrapped up inside me. And it's good stuff. If you disagree, you're entitled. :) But I'm likely not going to lose sleep over it tonight. And I thank the Lord every night that I get to fill the munchkins' heads with the knowledge that they are good enough, no matter what. No. Matter. What. Hold those heads high and walk out of the gym before halftime. And if they look, give 'em a smile.
Interesting how gossip seems to be on the acceptable list so many times, isn't it? Ah, well. Thankfully, all of us are works in progress and don't have to "prove" our worth!
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