War-Buddies...
Watching t.v. and seeing the pictures of war veterans with tears streaming down their cheeks as they remember the fallen gets to me every year. Most times I am struck a deep sense of gratitude, but this year my thoughts went another way. It occurred to me that it has been 60 years since the end of the war, yet the impact on the veterans looks as fresh as the day they arrived home. On t.v. there are images of old men embracing and remembering the pain they witnessed together as if it were yesterday, comforting each other as only another veteran can.
These images reminded me of some relationships that I have. While I have never experienced anything even remotely close to what the men in the trenches had to endure, I too have some war buddies that are able to comfort me.
Some of my upbringing was done in a cold and dangerous place, for me it was an emotional and spiritual war zone. The people who lived through this with me held my hand, comforted me and defended my life by risking their own. When someone does something like that for you, you never forget whether it be 2 years or 60 years later. There is an incredible trust that is created and an instant level of intemacy that is supernatural. Knowing someone would lay down their life for you (and you for them) brings a sense of love that isn't found in everyday living.
Right from the begininng of my life, I have lived in dangerous places and known friendships like this. I have known deep love that many people live a lifetime without experiencing. These are my loyal war-buddies with whom I had an instant yet ever-lasting connection of loyalty and intimacy. It doesn't matter if I see them everyday or every ten years, those feelings never go away because they were tested by fire and all the facades were burned away.
I have held every relationship I've had since my childhood up to this standard. Its like the movie "The Fourth of July" where war veterans return home and they don't fit anymore. People want to talk about apple pie and bingo. How does someone who has looked at the mysteries of death, life, honor, betrayal, loyalty, and courage just forget about it and talk about menial things? That is how I felt after moving to Winnipeg. In this culture, kids talked about soccer and name brands and how you do your hair. I wanted to talk about why they were so afraid they might not fit in and how do we deal with fear, which is something I understood. I didn't fit in, so I sought out other "war veterans".
I looked for friendship with people who had been wounded, who knew rejection and sorrow so I could find a connection that went beyond the color of my shoes. I craved meaningful conversation and intimacy of the soul. I found it in people who had survived their own wars. Even if the war had not been my own, the shared experience of sorrow was enough to make a safe place for us to talk. Any friendship that was offered to me that was less than this, was of no interest to me. How could I relate to apple pie when I had seen bleeding and dying souls?
I've approached all relationships like this, I go after the person's heart the first time we meet to see if the possibility for connection is there or not. I cannot imagine how many hundreds of people I have made terribly uncomfortable since moving to Winnipeg 17 years ago. I have no respect for small talk and I want to get to the heart of the matter, and the sooner the better. If the person I've met can't go there, then I label them "unsafe" and leave them be.
As I mature in my understanding of the world, I see that this is not right. There is a place for friendships that don't fall into the category of lifelong, intimate relationship. This friendship (or the person offering it) shouldn't be dismissed simply because I don't really get it. Maybe there is a place for talking about apple pie recipes, and maybe someday I will need a place for that too.
So I will continue to thank God for all my war-buddies that make me feel safe and loved whenever I need them. AND I will pray for grace to love those who have never known brokeness and want to sit and talk about apple pie. By the grace of God, I will work on my small talk skills and try to keep them from feeling as uncomfortable in my world as I do in theirs.
*WARNING* The contents of this post were written at 3:37 am...may not make any sense at all to some people*
Watching t.v. and seeing the pictures of war veterans with tears streaming down their cheeks as they remember the fallen gets to me every year. Most times I am struck a deep sense of gratitude, but this year my thoughts went another way. It occurred to me that it has been 60 years since the end of the war, yet the impact on the veterans looks as fresh as the day they arrived home. On t.v. there are images of old men embracing and remembering the pain they witnessed together as if it were yesterday, comforting each other as only another veteran can.
These images reminded me of some relationships that I have. While I have never experienced anything even remotely close to what the men in the trenches had to endure, I too have some war buddies that are able to comfort me.
Some of my upbringing was done in a cold and dangerous place, for me it was an emotional and spiritual war zone. The people who lived through this with me held my hand, comforted me and defended my life by risking their own. When someone does something like that for you, you never forget whether it be 2 years or 60 years later. There is an incredible trust that is created and an instant level of intemacy that is supernatural. Knowing someone would lay down their life for you (and you for them) brings a sense of love that isn't found in everyday living.
Right from the begininng of my life, I have lived in dangerous places and known friendships like this. I have known deep love that many people live a lifetime without experiencing. These are my loyal war-buddies with whom I had an instant yet ever-lasting connection of loyalty and intimacy. It doesn't matter if I see them everyday or every ten years, those feelings never go away because they were tested by fire and all the facades were burned away.
I have held every relationship I've had since my childhood up to this standard. Its like the movie "The Fourth of July" where war veterans return home and they don't fit anymore. People want to talk about apple pie and bingo. How does someone who has looked at the mysteries of death, life, honor, betrayal, loyalty, and courage just forget about it and talk about menial things? That is how I felt after moving to Winnipeg. In this culture, kids talked about soccer and name brands and how you do your hair. I wanted to talk about why they were so afraid they might not fit in and how do we deal with fear, which is something I understood. I didn't fit in, so I sought out other "war veterans".
I looked for friendship with people who had been wounded, who knew rejection and sorrow so I could find a connection that went beyond the color of my shoes. I craved meaningful conversation and intimacy of the soul. I found it in people who had survived their own wars. Even if the war had not been my own, the shared experience of sorrow was enough to make a safe place for us to talk. Any friendship that was offered to me that was less than this, was of no interest to me. How could I relate to apple pie when I had seen bleeding and dying souls?
I've approached all relationships like this, I go after the person's heart the first time we meet to see if the possibility for connection is there or not. I cannot imagine how many hundreds of people I have made terribly uncomfortable since moving to Winnipeg 17 years ago. I have no respect for small talk and I want to get to the heart of the matter, and the sooner the better. If the person I've met can't go there, then I label them "unsafe" and leave them be.
As I mature in my understanding of the world, I see that this is not right. There is a place for friendships that don't fall into the category of lifelong, intimate relationship. This friendship (or the person offering it) shouldn't be dismissed simply because I don't really get it. Maybe there is a place for talking about apple pie recipes, and maybe someday I will need a place for that too.
So I will continue to thank God for all my war-buddies that make me feel safe and loved whenever I need them. AND I will pray for grace to love those who have never known brokeness and want to sit and talk about apple pie. By the grace of God, I will work on my small talk skills and try to keep them from feeling as uncomfortable in my world as I do in theirs.
*WARNING* The contents of this post were written at 3:37 am...may not make any sense at all to some people*
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