My Dear John Letter to Facebook


Dear facebook, this letter was a long time coming. You see, we have been drifting apart for a while, but your most recent antics really put the nail in the coffin of our relationship.

I remember the early days of our romance, when we would hang out, look at funny photos and talk about our weekend. We would fight over political differences, but you were always there afterwards with a great quote that summed up my feelings perfectly.

But you have changed.

I noticed it first when we would sit down for breakfast. I would try to start our conversation and then realize that you no longer liked the same things I did. I would try to discuss an important event with a friend, but you would broadcast that conversation to others, and instigate arguments. What’s up with that? Thank goodness I still have a few friends left after all that extra drama.

That takes me to the gifts. I really liked that cat sweater you gave me a few years ago at christmas, but it seems like now all I get are christmas sweaters for every special occasion. The thrill is gone, the unexpected gifts and treats have been replaced with a steady stream of cat sweaters. I know you did that because you thought more of what I love means more to love, but it doesn’t; it just means a lot of cat sweaters and very little spontaneity.

But the thing that made me decide to end it was the love letters. You know, those old letters you started sliding into my morning paper. My personal opinion is that what’s over is over, and if I want to go back and read those notes, I will. But guess what. I don’t.

Consider this note the end of our love affair. I will no longer be available for your booty call notifications ringing incessantly through the night. I will no longer spend hours with you, gazing at sunsets and fun family photos. Because, alas, those photos have been replaced with photos of my cat sweaters. This isn’t goodbye forever, though. If you ever get yourself straightened out and become less obsessive/stalkery, we can totally still be friends.

Just not friends with benefits.


The Hallway

When I was growing up, my grandmothers house had a hallway. No windows, kind of narrow, very, very long as was common with old style ranchers. Of course the requisite pictures of my mother, aunts and cousins were hanging there. The wallpaper was just a teeny bit shiny, and there were several doors, leading to the bedrooms and bathrooms.

All the bedrooms were off this one hallway. We raced though it on Christmas morning to get from the bedroom to the living room to get to our stockings by the fireplace. We would sneak down the hall, past our grandparents bedroom so we could watch tv in the family room. It was a non-room.

I am currently in the hallway of life right now.

We have all heard the phrase, when God closes a door look for a window. As one who is currently feeling like every door and window is being slammed in my face, I am instead trying to figure out how to survive in the hallway.

Transition is not fun. I don’t particularly enjoy trying every door knob in sight, and feel it resist my hand.

We all go through times of transition, when we are waiting on the next season of life to open up. I have a tendency to grab the door and start shaking it, so desperate am I to get out of this place of transition. I am sure that none of you have ever beat upon a closed door begging for God to “make a way where there seems to be no way” (gotta bust out some bible verses. God listens to good theology, right?)

So the question is, what do you DO in the hallway? How do you wait when you are a terrible wait-er?

I am learning to take it one day at a time. And learning a new level of this trust thing. Sometimes I want to resist what I hear Him saying, when he is whispering to my heart, “peace be still”.

I want to think that sweet, quiet voice is the devil trying to stop me.

But it’s not. It’s His voice.

It’s my shepherd.

And he is saying peace, be still. Step back from the raging waters of your own ambition and desires.

Peace, be still.

Lean into the tension between calling and purpose and reality, and let me work through what that means BEFORE I take you through the doorway, because once I open those doors, you will be breathlessly carried away into new lands, and you won’t have the time to focus on your healing then.

So I am trying to lean into His arms, His presence. I know that is probably the biggest lesson of all – that I can’t do this myself.

And that is ok with me.

Are you in a new season of life, or still in the hallway. Tell me about it 🙂