Are you the swine?

My most recent blog post (apart from this one) was about protecting your pearls.  You know the saying, “Don’t cast your pearls before swine?”  I never really got what it meant.  I mean, I did, but I didn’t… until recently. 

In my last post I lamented the modern ease of throwing the most valuable parts of who we are as individuals – our hopes, dreams, fears – out to the world via Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, etc.  This post is more difficult to write.  It’s more personal.  More in my face.  I can’t blame the internet, Facebook, YouTube, My Space, or anyone or anything else for this one.  It’s just me and my mirror.

It’s one thing for me to share my pearls with others who might not treasure them – I can, at least in part, blame the swine.  It’s another for me to be the one not treasuring the pearls – that means I am the swine.

Lately, a number of situations have come up in which truth has been crucial.  The kind of truths that are the really delicate pearls, the kind you don’t share with just anyone, the kind you share with just about no one.  And people I know well, very well, had to decide when and where and if they were going to share these pearls at all. 

I said in my last post that I want to raise my daughter to know when not to share her pearls.  Upon further reflection, I’m realizing that perhaps more importantly than that, I want to raise my daughter to know when TO share her pearls and to whom.  I'm realizing that pearls are no fun, no benefit, they have no value if you simply bury them forever, never to be seen.  Pearls were meant to be shared, enjoyed, discussed, if only with a few trusted people who will value them.

Each of us needs safe places to go with our most prized pearls.  It’s relatively easy to see that Facebook isn't the place to go with them.  It's more difficult to find the safe places you can go with them.  And I wonder if it isn't becoming more and more difficult to find those safe places… But is the reason for that staring me back in the mirror.  Am I the kind of person who will treasure another’s pearls?  My own pearls?  

Let me be clear here, I’m not talking about just being a good secret keeper – that’s not the deal at all.  I’m talking about being a good friend, a really good friend, the best kind of friend, the kind of friend who will tell my friend when they are dead wrong and they need to get their act together.  The kind of friend who will tell my friend that I think they are wrong in such a way that my friend will hear it and know that I love them and would do anything for them.  The kind of friend that will still be friends no matter what my friend decides to do or not do – but my friend will know exactly where I stand and why.  Am I that kind of friend? 

We all have secrets, good secrets like the hopes and dreams kind, and bad secrets, like the fears and failures kind.  Am I the kind of person who can be trusted with the latter?  It seems to me that’s the hard one.  Nobody wants to admit their fears and failures to the world.  The world is a harsh place that will eat you alive if you give it a chance, and sharing your fears and failures is the world's favorite kind of fresh meat. 

At the same time, we have to be real at some point, don't we?  We have to be human, we have to have some safe place to admit, confess, process, and be encouraged to grow.  And let's be honest, we can't all afford life-long counseling.  (That's why I married a counselor!  A lifetime of free counseling for me!!!  Poor hubby...)

I may have been born a Deichmann, but believe it or not, I'm wrong every now and then.  I don't like to admit it (just ask my husband), but once in a blue moon it does happen.  I feel so blessed to have married a man who is gentle, patient, long-suffering (to say the least), and who tells me I'm dead wrong when I'm wrong.  He does so carefully, delicately, in such a way that shows me he treasures my pearls.  And because of his respect and care, I am always looking for chances to share more pearls with him.  I know he values them.

And then I look back into my mirror.  Am I that for him?  Or does my nose reflect back to me as more of a snout?  Is my complexion turning pink?  Did my poor husband marry Miss Piggy?  We all have things to work on.  I wrote in my last post about performing and how we need to know when to perform so that we're not casting our pearls before swine.  I hope you're seeing, as I have over the last couple of days, the importance of knowing when NOT to perform, of being and having a safe place to go, of recognizing and valuing the pearls put before you.

Do you have that safe place to go – that place where you can carefully unveil your pearls, show who you really are, be loved, be challenged, be encouraged to be the very best version of yourself?  If you don't, look for it. Pray for it.  Beg God to put that safe person in your path like YESTERDAY.  It’s SO important! 

And pick up a mirror.  Look at your nose.  Be honest with yourself about what you see.  If you’re not honest enough to trust yourself with your own pearls (specifically your deep down, hidden, most scary fears and failures - have you taken any time to really admit them to yourself?), I can promise you that no one else will trust you with theirs.  

Sorry to get all preachy.  But seriously, treasure your pearls. 

Performing and Facebook and Intimacy

A performance.  It's all a performance.  That's how we live life these days.

This blog post started in my head 2 weeks ago on Easter Sunday when a gentleman in our church talked about what God was doing in his life.  What he said was so good.  He said

Beware.  This is a performance.  Me, what I'm saying right now as I stand up here, is an act.  And I'm thinking about what you're thinking of me, and I'm thinking about how I can impress you.  And that's what you see.  But what matters, what really matters is what I think, how I act, what I do when no one else could possibly observe me.  What is my relationship with God like then?

I've been thinking about that for 2 weeks now.  And I've been thinking about how right he was.  This blog post, this one I'm writing right now, is a performance - you can't know if I'm being real with you or not.  You can only know what I choose to share with you.  And as much as I'd like to say it's all "real" and I'm sharing who I "really am," the reality is that as I type, I worry about what you will think.  

What will my Georgetown friends think?  What will my Michigan friends think?  What will my closest friends think?  What will the people from my church think - is it Christian enough?  Is it too Christian for my Georgetown friends to get through - don't want to turn them off, if they even still read these things...  Who's going to figure out who the guy I mentioned above is, and will it upset him that I used his thoughts on my blog?  And who cares about what I think anyway?

We all do it.  In fact, I think this time we live in - this time with thousands of TV channels, reality shows, the internet, Facebook, blogs, My Space, Linked In, Twitter, Stumble Upon, Pinterest, YouTube - makes putting on a show so much easier.

We have perceptions of ourselves that we project into the social-media-sphere as if there are hundreds - nay thousands - of people out there just dying to know what we're having for supper, which color of shoes we wore, what political issue we're ranting about, what funny thing our kid said (clearly the funniest thing any kid ever said - why else would I put it on Facebook and then check 30 times a day to see how many likes it got?  ...and then notice that my version of the post got more likes than my husbands - clearly my Facebook following is more loyal and "close" to me than his is to him!).

What is this that we're doing to ourselves?  Isn't life hard enough without living it purposefully in front of presumably thousands of people?  And yet we willingly walk into this trap which breeds insincerity, insecurity, and isolation.  

Please don't misunderstand what I'm saying - I love Facebook!  I am posting this on my blog, for Heaven's sake, after I just finished browsing Pinterest - clearly I don't have a problem with using modern technology and social media as major means of communication.  Having said that, I'm lamenting the pitfalls that we dive into head first and then wonder why we're paralyzed by them.

Feelings, fears, hopes, dreams, hurts, heartache, longing, love - these are delicate.  They must be handled with the utmost respect, care, and gentleness.  They require honesty, openness and above all safety to experience, to share, to process.  Why, then, do we put these most delicate and valuable of things out for all the world to see, strip ourselves bare of the very things that make us who we are, and then scream and wail in torment when others respond harshly to them.  

I didn't tell you when we were trying to get pregnant with Lily until we were already, safely pregnant.  Why?  Because there were too many insecurities, hopes, dreams, fears, and emotions wrapped up in that decision to share it with everyone - to share it with anyone.  We needed to wrestle with those questions alone - what if we can't get pregnant?  What if we do and lose the baby?  What if the baby has health issues?  What if we can't handle it?  It was too raw - Chase and I needed to face it together with only our most trusted confidants to help us through.  And 1,000 questions of "any luck on this cycle?" and "are you doing ok?" and comments of "hope it's going well ;) ;)" were not the "support" we needed.  So we didn't share.  

I don't tell you when Chase and I have an argument - spousal disagreements aren't meant to be had via IM or text and especially not via Facebook wall.  Face to face, that's how those things are worked out.  The eyes, they say, are the window to the soul - I don't find Windows on my desktop to be a suitable alternative.  

And yet there's this conundrum, this challenge inside of me that says, "You write so eloquently about not living life as a performance out there for the world to see, but yet you encouraged your 18 month old daughter to perform when your friends were over tonight.  Didn't you coax her into saying the funny things you've taught her?"  

Caught.  It's true, I'm caught, because I did just that.  At the same time, I think the argument I'm making here is that there are times it IS ok to perform, to put things out there - PLEASE post about your new baby on Facebook!  How else would I know you and baby are doing well?  PLEASE put pictures of your wedding, your family celebrations, your kids' everyday silliness up there - I love seeing those!  I want to know the witty/funny thought you just had about nose hairs or couch cushions or bad drivers - they make me laugh and brighten my day.  And I love reading your toddler's hilarious quote! 

But if I'm being honest, I don't want to know that you're fighting with your mother-in-law, or that your husband was cranky this morning, or that you're upset at "you know who you are."  If you want to share those things with me, would you please do them over a cup of coffee in my kitchen?  Those things mean you're hurting, and I want to be a real help to that hurt if I can.  Posting a response of "R U ok?" just doesn't seem to have the same effect.  And if I can't be a help, a listening ear, a support in a real way, then why are you telling me?  I don't want to know - I have enough other things to deal with today and I don't need the temptation to gossip.

So I try to find a balance - I know what I do and do not want to share with the world, and I try really hard not to use social media as a method of punishment or retribution or accusation.  And I try to share things that will be uplifting, funny or thought-provoking for you, because those are the kinds of things I like to read on your wall.  I try to be real, but not intimate.  Social media is not the place for intimacy.  

And I wonder, what about my daughter?  She is, after all, repeating everything we say, and trying to do everything we do.  (Since 12 months, she's been able to unlock our iPhone and iPad - it won't be much longer and she'll want a Facebook account of her own!)

What am I teaching her?  Am I teaching her that her inmost thoughts, hopes, dreams, fears, loves - who she is at the very core - are the most precious things in the world?  Am I, by my actions, postings, replies, and IM's, teaching her that there are things about herself that she ought not share with the hundreds - nay thousands - who may be watching her online?  And am I teaching her the truth that the hundreds - nay thousands - who may be watching her online are really only the few - maybe 3 or 10 people?  And of those 3 or 10 people, the ones who need to know those precious things about her probably already know them, and the others, well, they're just snooping anyway.  It's called "Facebook stalking" for a reason.  

I don't want my daughter to grow up in a world, nor do I want to live in a world, where all we do is perform. I want to be real, and I want to teach her to be real - in the right places, at the right times, when she's safe, with people who will love, respect, and cherish those most precious and intimate thoughts.  And I want to teach her to perform in an honest way when it's not safe to share those things.    

Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs.  If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces.  

Jesus didn't have Facebook or Twitter or the blogosphere or YouTube, but somehow He knew what happens when precious things are revealed to those not intended to see them.  I guess human nature hasn't changed much.  

Perform honestly when it's appropriate to perform.  Be intimate only when it's safe.  Treasure your pearls. (Matthew 7:6)