Community Post- Finding Initimacy

It's been eleven years since I turned to Jesus. I don't regret it but the years have not gotten easier, though they have somehow grown shorter.

At the beginning I never had to wonder what community was. I had friends. It was the biggest thing that led me to Christ. That was in highschool and I will forever be thankful to the group of friends that encouraged me, sharpened me, and loved me into Jesus.

Then college came and the group from high school dwindled to one and the community bond lessened. However, I still found friends and over time these new friends became some of my closest friends, but I yearned for intimacy for the time I wasn't surrounded by it.

Throughout my young 20's, because honestly I haven't left the college zone yet, close friends came and went. Community was amazing and massive and found at every corner if you wanted it....

But now, I'm 26 and cannot seem to hold onto it. I moved home a few years ago after I couldn't find a job. I felt sure I'd make new friends easily or connect with a few old ones. Nope. Didn't happen, and I am one of the friendliest and most extroverted people you can meet.

The first 6 months of being home were 100% TORTURE. I was alone but for my cat and parents. My best friends became MY CAT AND MY PARENTS. I was 23 so imagine how disheartening that realization was! When I moved home, my amazing community didn't follow me. Not through communication or through emotion or attempts to stay connected...can you imagine the scar from that?

I finally was able to find a church and attend regularly. I joined a small group where I was so excited at the prospect of new friends! People to wine and dine and coffee with! Nope. Adulting sucks and everyone had work or kids or husbands or something that didn't include the single and ready to mingle new girl. I tried desperately. I stayed late after services. I went to multiple small groups if I could. I volunteered where needed, but I couldn't find what I needed- connection, community, and intimacy.

I tried and cried for two years. I asked to be invited. I, unfortunately, probably became that overly needy girl that no one even WANTS to invite because...no I can't think of a reason. I just wanted to be involved. But couldn't get the golden ticket.

So I church hopped and found a new church. This church preaches on the love of community and God knows I put that IV in my arm as fast as I could and waited for the sweet relief that is community and acceptance and intimacy. Slightly less nope, but so far...

It sucks because people can be so genuine and believe what they are saying so deep into their own bones that you believe them too. Then they disappoint you. Over..and over....and over again. And you have already bared your soul 15 times that week to them so what's the point in doing it again? They know and they still do it, so should you keep trying?

I honestly don't know. I keep praying for community- true and honest, soul-baring community. I want friends, not church members I sit beside. I do have a few friends from this new church, don't get me wrong, I even still have one from the old church.

But I'm not on the level with any that I can call up for coffee at random, or feel comfortable even doing that. A few I'm getting there with, but they have kids to consider (NOTHING wrong with that! I love my mom friends..in fact all but like 2 of my friends right now are moms! but it can make it difficult to do anything spur of the moment..or even planned.)

I just want to know I can sit with you and not talk, talk til day break, talk about life and death, or laugh about the wind.

I will keep praying. I will keep striving because I know my biggest enemy is rejection right now...more on that later....so much revelation there....

This is going to continue to be a brutally honest posting and if you have negative comments, or think I'm doing something wrong and don't deserve community, you can simply shove it where the sun don't shine.

With love,
Maggie Mae

I Am A Broken Tea Cup

((preface: this is a vision God gave to me of myself a long while back, but only today has it developed more into words.))

I'm a broken tea cup. I have red and yellow flowers on a white background. A red trimming along the handle and lip. I am pretty from afar, eye-catching. But hold me carefully because I'm chipped and cracked. No longer can I hold full a cup of tea. It dribbles down the sides in tear-shaped droplets, small and constant until I'm empty or hold the remnants of tea leaves. You try to drink from me, but my chips cut your lips and now your blood mixes with the tea. I hold that part of you in my center as it sinks to the bottom. You put me back into the lonely cupboard. The next person comes and picks me up unaware of the odd cracks camouflaged by my flowers. He holds me close, enjoying the warmth I carry from the tea, but as he holds me the warmth of the tea begins to slowly drip through his fingers now lined with nearly invisible, yet painful, cuts. He retreats to the handle to avoid my edges, holding me from afar still able to admire my beauty. His hand grows tired and he places me back in the cupboard. The next man comes by. He sees the beautiful tea cup in my imperfection. He holds me gently by the handle while he takes his time to examine me. He doesn't return me to the dusty cupboard. He sees my dangerous nicks that would dribble the tea onto his newly pressed shirt; he sees my chipped lip that could cause him to bleed; he sees my imperfect dangers and calls them "potential." He holds me from the bottom, supporting me firmly. He finds some filler to fill in the cracks. The filler is accented in gold. He fills the cracks, I can hold tea now. No more will the tea flow from me in tears. He prepares a gold molding to fit the chip in my lip. It fits perfectly as he attaches it. I am whole again. The tea will now pour only for those that choose to drink from me. All can appreciate my beauty from my new cupboard, but still can see the scars from the drops I've endured. Small pieces of me still float about in my old cupboard and kitchen. My new gold cracks and lip piece will be reminders I was once sharp, biting, unfulfilled. When they pick me up, they will pick me up from my new owners cupboard-- a clean and pristine cupboard, one filled with other mended china, but no dust or broken pieces. When people ask of me, he will hold me from the bottom, allowing my handle to be lifted by whomever and from whomever to drink from me, but yet only by his discretion, for he holds the key to the cupboard. He holds me firmly, having invested in my weakness. I will forever reflect his gold that now glimmers in my cracks. I no longer have to feel rejected by those that did not like my edges, for when they return me to the cupboard, they return me to the hand that filled me.

#jesus