I was raised to be a very POLITE person.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got my rough edges. I cuss when I play Mario Kart (and lots of other times). I finish other people’s sentences (I’m just trying to engage!). I get impatient when I’m driving (usually because I’m late). My elbows tend to end up on the table when I’m eating (sorry, Mom). I don’t always sit in the most ladylike position (which is okay because I’m wearing jeans).
But for the most part, in relationships, I tend to not force myself on anyone. If someone wants to be left alone, I try to honor that request. I never show up anywhere uninvited. I don’t call or text too late at night or too early in the morning. I’ll volunteer to help out, but if my offer is turned down, I accept that and quickly move on. I’m a great friend, but I’m careful not to take it too far. I don’t want to come across as pushy or presumptuous.
Here’s the problem with that: People rarely ask for help when they need it.
My world was rocking along pretty dang near perfectly for a long time. I led a Bible study in my home once a week so the girls got to see my life and got to see me enjoy it.
Then the wheels came off.
What I’d like to say is that the next week when my Bible study girls showed up, they could feel something was off. They could read my face, feel the change in the atmosphere and just know that something was very, very wrong.
But the sad thing is, they had no idea.
Not because they’re uncaring, unaware or imperceptive. But overnight I developed an airtight mask. The me who had always enjoyed the freedom of being completely myself and honest and vulnerable and real was locked away and I began to live a lie. I put up a flawless front and no one ever knew that anything had changed.
I meant well. I was given some bad advice from a trusted counselor to not tell a soul about what I was going through. I needed a chance to get it together before anyone else got involved. But mainly, I pretended everything was fine because I wanted more than my next breath for everything to actually BE fine.
A year later, the jig was up and the truth came out. My friends were blindsided. They were amazed at the act I had kept up for so long. They had all fallen for it. And why shouldn’t they? I had never been anything but real with them. Honestly, I was amazed too. I didn’t know I was capable of that level of deception. It was eerily impressive.
With their forgiveness and support, I continued to lead Bible study. I had completely run out of steam in my bluff and our sessions were held in humility and authenticity. I was broken, and they all knew it. My tears were regular attenders each week and my precious friends rallied around me in ways I had never known before.
And that’s when I first experienced obnoxious love.
I met Hannah in the middle of my secret crisis, our friendship beginning at one of the lowest points of my life. She was just what I needed. She was obnoxious.
She called me just before nine one Thursday night. I had just gotten my toddler to bed and the full day of single-working-mom-ness had taken its toll. I was exhausted.
“Hey, love! I’m on my way over! Preheat the oven to 350!”
“What? Hannah, what are you talking about?”
“I’m on my way. Grey’s Anatomy. And I’m bringing treats!”
“Hannah, you don’t have to do this. I’m kinda tired. I think I’ll just…”
“I’m almost there. Preheat the oven!” She hung up.
So I preheated the oven.
It wasn’t just for me either. I watched her do it with a number of other people. She just loved hard. Loved proactively. Didn’t wait for a cry for help. Didn’t wait for an invitation. Just showed up. With treats, no less.
I still look back on those times and marvel at her. I do not have the guts to love like that. And good gosh, I wish I did. I’m working on it.
Because now I know. I know to not always believe that everything is fine. I know you can put on a brave front when your soul is gasping for breath. I know what it’s like to turn down offers for help because you have to prove to yourself and the world that you can stand on your own two feet, even though they’ve just been knocked out from under you. And you feel like you’re being brave, independent, strong, POLITE, for heaven’s sake. Wouldn’t want to put anyone out or take advantage of their kindness.
So now I just go through life assuming that everyone is dying inside in one way or another. Some people really are fine when they say they’re fine. But most aren’t.
And I’ve gotten better. When God stirs my heart toward someone, I try to act as quickly as possible, before I talk myself out of it. A text to check in. A lunch date set up. And I hardly ever buy “fine” anymore. My discernment is still pretty weak, but once you’ve covered soul-scraping pain with a perfect smile, you can usually tell when someone else is doing it too. Behind all the lols and happy emojis could be a heart just hanging on for dear life.
I still haven’t achieved Hannah-level obnoxious love. But that is the goal I’m striving for and it’s a real challenge for me. Somewhere along the way Satan turned my politeness into a crushing, people-pleasing repression and I used to tiptoe into other people’s lives like carefully easing a bare foot into a cold mountain lake. But God is making me bolder, and I realize now that He has children silently freezing and drowning alone in that lake. Now my shoes come off pretty fast when I smell pain in the air and my jeans are wet before I know it.
But there are amazing people like Hannah who just dive right in, and I have to fight tears when I remember her and her obnoxious kindness to me during that cold summer. We now live in different states (South Carolina, you are SO LUCKY!) so she’s not a regular part of my life. Thank goodness for Facebook.
But she was Jesus to me when I needed Him the most. I was too ashamed to look at Him, so He disguised Himself as a hilarious, gorgeous redhead with Olympic-caliber hugs and loved me hard through that woman.
Hannah, I wanna be like you when I grow up.
