I am terribly ill-equipped to say the right thing when it comes to racial tensions, racial inequality, and racially-motivated killings in the United States. Anything I say will come up short and (as an introvert who takes quite some time to formulate words) too late for the moment it’s needed. So I’ve often opted for silent, private grieving. But silence, although comforting to introverts like me, can be experienced painfully by others.
Facebook is a great tool for connecting with far-away friends and acquaintances. It can also lend itself quite easily to superficiality:
The latter is usually comprised of the highlights and occasionally a life-altering lowlight that we are essentially asking prayer (or warm thoughts) for, but not much of the mundane in-between. That’s not necessarily a bad thing because
a) most of us don’t want to be inundated with the minutest details of our friends’ lives, and
b) most of us don’t like our “dirty laundry” or that of others to be constantly aired out online.
The issue is, because Facebook is mostly a conglomeration of good times and best moments of hundreds if not thousands of friends on the newsfeed, it can be very easy to believe that one’s own life pales in comparison to everybody else’s.
I belonged to a group of single working women at my church a few years back. We met occasionally to discuss the blessings and challenges of being single, pray for the desires of our hearts (which included much more than catching a man!), and form friendships with other young women who were in a similar stage of life. Our meetings were something we all looked forward to very much.
Each time we gathered, our leader (a kind woman our mothers’ age who was living a different type of singleness having been both married and divorced) gave us a handful of thoughtful questions to discuss. One particular gathering she posed the question, “What do you wish others who are not in your situation could understand about you?”
I have always fancied myself pretty good at reading other people’s minds. It comes from my tendency to over-analyze small details: the micro-actions or inactions of someone I’m familiar with. It’s a self-preservation tool to try to be prepared to respond in any situation. I’m always thinking about what other people are thinking about.
And I’ve been told (by someone I love and trust) that I’m not as good at it as I fancy I am.
