There are complex individuals and there are complicated people.
What’s the difference you ask? 2 syllables, says Giraffe. Ok, I’ll quit with the smart ass for a minute.
All of us are complex. Many are complicated. But not all. Simplify with me. A baby has complex needs and requirements. But he is not complicated. He isn’t screaming for a diaper change when he’s clean and hungry. He knows what he wants, he just doesn’t know how to get it.
That’s where the older/wiser (supposedly) parental figures come in. We assess, diagnose and work to meet the need.
I have a friend that is both complex (something I have enjoyed) and complicated (something I neither enjoy nor know how best to respond.)
I met her about 3 years ago and was instantly drawn to her Zest! Funny, samrt, charming, real, honest. I immediately believed we could be friends. At least I hoped so.
And over the course of the next 8 months we did become friends. I thought. She had struggles with life, love, G-d. We all do, I thought to myself and while I would pray for her, I didn’t really think much more about it. I don’t go looking for issues or drama. I have enough of my own and I find it distasteful anyway, so it was all good. I thought.
Then life changed. She withdrew. She disappeared. I called. I talked. I prayed. I hoped. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and I didn’t want to believe what G-d was showing me. Not now. Not her. Not this.
Our fledgling friendship teetered and tottered. We drifted apart. Well, she drifted. I stayed as constant as I knew to be. I prayed. And waited.
When the crap hit the fan, as it always does, I wasn’t surprised. So very sad. But not surprised.
My life experience, though varied and complicated in and of itself, did not prepare me for this change in my paradigm. I found I had no easy answers. No definitive black and white response.
See, she came SCREAMING out of the closet. “I am woman hear me roar and obliterate anyone who stands in my way!”
My dear sister/friend with whom I had prayed, laughed, cried…. With all this darkness underneath. I saw her complexity and empathized with her childhood struggles. I loved her in spite of her bravado. I saw the frightened woman she tried so desperately to hide.
I don’t care what you think about homosexuality. G-d hates it. I have yet to see it be anything but a demonic, selfish, destructive lifestyle which exemplifies the ultimate in narcisissim.
She’s gone from giddy with freedom to selling her new gospel to all her acquaintances to stalking the object of her previous affection and most recently has found a new “friend”. I refuse to use the term lover. There is no true love in this perversion.
Did I mention her husband was the pastor of the church I used to attend?
I miss my friend. I miss the illusion of friendship she offered. I miss the time we shared. I am angry that she has robbed us all of the future we had hoped for as we loved her.
I will be forever changed by the choices she’s made. We all are. All those who know her. Some more so than others. But we are all changed. The nuance, the complexity of our existance will have a tinge of this struggle. Her ex-husband and children will spend the rest of their lives trying to pick up the pieces. And they’ll never find them all. There will be gaps and holes and cracks to fill. And G-d will be faithful to us. He will complete, heal and restore us.
Every time we see her in her defiant rebellion against Him, the pieces will shake and He will rebuild us.
I continue to pray that she will be rebuilt as well.