Asking questions is a lost art. Too much “look at me” going on over the past 7 years since selfies and social media really took off. Asking questions of others is healing to both souls. “look at me” hurts souls. It’s why I believe today’s teenagers struggle so much with anxiety and stress. Too much information and pressure on undeveloped minds. Separate soapbox for a separate day. But focusing on ourselves is not how we were made. I was made to reflect God. Seems simple. It’s never supposed to be about me.
Until it is.
Such an odd dynamic happening in my mind right now.
Right now it seems to be a lot about me. I’m writing about me. I’m sitting in doctor’s offices and they say tell me where it hurts and I point to me. I’m talking a lot about me with friends. Yesterday I talked to a friend on the phone for an hour….about me. He asked me incredible questions. And while at first uncomfortable and I tried to redirect, he called me out on it and it became healing, to me.
I love asking questions. I don’t know where I got it or why but I believe asking questions is a lost art that draws people to connection, God, healing, understanding. But I don’t particularly like people asking me questions.
I found myself answering the doctor’s questions two days ago and not completely truthfully. Because if I were to tell him the truth, there would be a lot of attention…on me. I ended up stopping and telling him the truth. And I was right.
But something is changing. I’m realizing that sometimes “about me” is ok. In the story of the disciples and the storm when Jesus walked on water, the reason Jesus wasn’t with them in the boat is because he wanted to go be alone with God. He needed time for himself. HIMself. himSELF. And lately I’m realizing that talking about me and my experiences is…healing.
I’ve always used the Rubiks cube as a metaphor. Life starts out generally with all the colors on the right sides. Then as life happens the colors get all mixed up and it doesn’t take but about 5 or 6 turns and it looks like a mess. Over 50 years that’s a lot of turns. My cube is a mess. But not really. It’s beautiful. But what do I do with the cube or more specifically, what do people do with the story of my life which is what the cube represents. Judge it by saying what a mess I’ve made? Ignore it like the beggar on the street corner asking for money? Most importantly what do I do with my own cube? Typically I simply peel the stickers off every day and put them back on the right sides to just make it look like I have it all together.
But lately what has been happening to me is people asking me, “What’s it like?”. What’s it like to not have memories before the age of 12? What’s it like to have that pain in your chest all these years? What’s it like, how do people treat you, are you afraid, is your family afraid….
It’s called understanding. And lately…I’m starting to feel understood. And with it is coming healing. And what looks like a mess that needs to be fixed is really just a beautiful life that needs to be understood.
Tomorrow begins the “30 day plan” of wrestling with the cube…I’m ready…
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