As much as I try to act like the events of November 13th haven’t adversely affected me, they have. I tend to want to put a smiley face and pretty bow on the bad things. God is good, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t have hard times, and we don’t feel bad and have our feelings hurt. God knows that we are human, He knows that we hurt.
He knows that I have cried and that I miss my friends. I don’t have to tell people about it, He knows. But sometimes I think we need to share our struggles. This is one of those times.
For many years I have been identified and defined as the “preacher’s wife”. Because we’ve lived in small towns a lot of people knew who I was long before I knew who they were. I didn’t have to introduce myself, it seemed that people wanted to know me and be my friend. I thought I was liked for who I was.
I’ve realized over the last few months that that probably wasn’t the way things really were. People probably liked me and were my “friend” because I was the “preacher’s wife”. It never occured to me that that was the case.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not the best friend a girl could have. I know that. But I am nice and friendly. But making friends at 41 is hard. Especially when people don’t fully understand what we’re doing (planting a church), and I can’t commit to teaching, or helping at church.
I have some good friends here, new friends. Friends that will be friends even if I move. But I’m so used to being sought out, I took it for granted. I sought people out to be my friends, I still do, it’s just different now. I still have friends from our previous place of service, so don’t think I’m friendless. I’m not sharing this for pity, I’m sharing it just to share and vent! Life is good, we’re happy and doing well. Just thought you might like to know that we all struggle. Might as well share it!