I almost passed the comment over with a quick glance and smile. A friend who read yesterday’s post had written one simple line.
“Aw Dawn, I love ya’ for your honesty.”
Then, I let the truth of that sink in.
I love you for your honesty.
We went to high school together, this woman and I, and were friends in a fashion. We shared activities, even sang in a small-group ensemble wearing matching shaker sweaters from the Limited. She might kill me if I posted the picture.
But then again, she’s 1,500 miles away.
I liked her for her sense of humor, admired her for her talents, envied her for her blonde California girl looks. But loved her? Not really.
She seemed to me then, effortlessly popular and sure of herself. So I waded into only the shallow surf of friendship, fearing if I was a little more vulnerable, the waves might well knock me over.
And although we all cried at graduation to Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant singing “Friends are friends forever if the Lord’s the Lord of them,” after we headed off to college, I didn’t give her another thought. I’m sure she felt the same.
But as our 25th high school reunion approaches, this California girl and I have reconnected on Facebook. She’s clearly made a deal with the devil and has become even more spectacularly beautiful. But whether age has made me wiser or keyboards make me braver, I find myself not so intimidated these days.
So in a handful of emails and instant messages and status comments, we’ve both waded step by step into the waters of authenticity. Traded stories and prayer requests. Dropped pretenses. Picked up not where we left off, but at a new place where we can be genuine.
I still like her because she’s funny. Still admire her because she’s talented and accomplished. Still envy her gorgeousness and wonder if she’d give me the devil’s number.
But now, more than all those things?
I love her for her honesty.
I don’t want to get all preachy, but you know, that’d be a great resolution for 2010. Let people love you because you’re honest. Stop trying so hard to be who you think you should be, and be who you are.
I know I Corinthians 13:12 is talking about our relationship with God when it says “For now we see in a glass, dimly, but then face to face.”
But we spend a lot of time, it seems to me, making sure the only way anyone sees us is dimly, through a fog. If in heaven, all our perfect relationships are transparent, why not get out the glass cleaner and work on getting that mirror as see-through as possible here on earth?
Just listen to it again, and tell me it’s not worth a try.
I love you for your honesty.
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