Broken Things To Mend

(post originally written in April 2013)

There will come a time in your life when you do something completely inappropriate and wrong. You will royally mess up. More than likely this will happen more than once.

Perhaps your mistake will be saying something out of line about someone (Person A) that another person (Person B) overhears. Instead of asking you to clarify or correct your behavior, Person B then reports it back to Person A and all their coworkers via texts and whispers while you are 30 feet away. You don't realize it's happening.

You find out the next day at a professional lunch in which Person A who is justifiably upset proceeds to tell your colleague, Person C about your horrendous mistake without making eye contact with you. When confronted, you try to remember what you said, but can't quite remember everything or exactly what you said. When elements of your conversation come up, you admit and acknowledge that you were in error. You fall on your sword because you can not lie and would rather admit and face your mistakes.

For the next TWO hours, you are trapped in a corner, forced to listen and be ignored while you are slammed into the ground. You confess your wrongdoing and ask how you can make recompense. The answer isn't clear. You listen as other friends are wrongly accused, but don't know how to rebut because your opinion is now invalid and not trusted. Anything you say provokes a sneer from Person A.

You promise to change your behavior, but you continue to wrack your memory to recall what you said. Your reputation is tarnished in one day. You offer to step down, but admit you would love a second chance. Again, you promise to change.

Person C is obviously disappointed, but is gracious and kind in his chastisement. He offers to coach you and advise you.

For the next 36 hours, you spend all but a precious few hours poring over your mistakes and now broken relationships. You cry nonstop, pray, repent, and worry, worry, worry. You are afraid to face people that you've loved for three years.

Deflated. Humiliated. Crushed. Humbled. Hurt.

When you walk into the environment, the feeling is cold. Friends from yesterday try to avoid you and use cool tones. You are now part of the banished club. You hurt that not one of the people who called you "Friend" had the courtesy to face you and ask YOUR side of the story. You are branded. You don't know what is said, but the venom oozes out of the walls and leaves an icy chill in the air.

You lean on your husband and find your true friends. They listen and comfort. They don't judge, but love. Your friend goes out to get ice cream with you and knows how to make you laugh again. For a few minutes, you find yourself.

Later, the voices, worry, and humiliation haunt you. Just as you are ready to succumb to the drear, your phone rings. A familiar voice instructs you to check your porch. You open the door to find a basket of gifts. It's a "sometimes" basket. The tears fall as your broken heart feels a warm hand cradle it and try to comfort your deflated soul. You know this friend is heaven sent.

The wounds are still fresh, and some relationships may not heal, but the balm of friendship and love remind me that I am loved and have value even when I'm broken.

After reading this, I remember this time in my life very well.  In fact, I grew more that spring/summer/fall than I realized was possible.  I honestly attribute it to being one of the catalysts for me to have the courage to change.  To rise above yourself, you must be as a phoenix -- one who rises from the ashes as something renewed and beautiful.

Image by deviantART

I'm grateful for that experience, although I would never wish to relive those emotions and wounds.  To this day, I still do not have those friendships I once cherished, but today I have new relationships and new friends who fill my life with joy.