Love/Hate is a Fine Line

Although grief and death is not new to me, this weekend my Grandmother (Julie Colton) passed away. I has been years since I have been able to see her since she has been living outside of Washington D.C. in a nursing home that specializes in Altzhiemers patients. She was a woman who was not easy to deal with, and there were times when I wondered if there was any line at all between love and hate.

I knew in my mind that I loved her because she was my grandmother, but her actions infuriated my easily provocted teenaged mind. Now those of you who are freaking out right now thinking, "How dare she talk about her grandmother like that!" please hold off judgment. This was my battle for the last 15 or so years of my life. My mind constantly told me, "How dare I!" The Bible tells us that to hate your brother in your heart is the same as killing him (as far as how God sees the sin). So my internal battle raged: Love my neighbor as myself.

Julie was 85 when she passed away, an immigrant from Beirut, Lebanon, she had seen more of the world than most. She fled civil war only to land in a country where surely her spiritual battle continued. She bore one child, who in my estimation is the best child ever (love you Mom). She lived most of her adult life alone. So what is not to love. So much of her, is me. I identify so strongly with the Arab side of me, and my move to the United States happened at a similar age. So to love this woman as myself, I must think how I would like to be loved despite all of my short commings.

Death is never easy to deal with, but I was not expecting this uncharted territory for me. I no longer doubt that I love her, although I know that line is thin. Is it that I have grown as a person. Is this me being the bigger person. Probably not... I rarely am. I am really hopeful because of the fact that I can love someone who is outside of my realm of "like." Maybe someday I will be able to love everyone as myself, but for now, I will start with my Grammie.

Connecting

I have never much had an issue with connecting. They tell me that third-culture kids (those of us who grow up overseas) over connect, we share too much. But somehow when it comes to this process, I become more timid than I have ever been. What is it about connecting that scares us. Me specifically. If I am afraid of rejection, I remember that I didn't even know this person 24 hours before and will not miss their friendship... harsh but true. If it is making the other person uncomfortable, than I have to remember that I didn't even know this person 24 hours before and don't matter enough in their world to make that much of an impact. If it is my own discomfort then I have a problem. Am I not who I thought I was. This week, I read a passage in Hebrews that I never thought would apply to me. In Hebrews 12:12 it says, "Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees." The passage is talking about God disciplining His children through hardships and something about that seemed to strike a chord with me.

Anyone who has ever been victem to one of my back hands (I'm sorry) knows that I am not a feeble armed kind of person. I help pick others up. I am the defender-of-the-younger-sister, and the stiff-backbone-of-the-newer-teacher. So where is God showing me that I am in need of stregnthening? Where can I look for the extra brace. I know that God is teaching me to refocuse my world to one that does not revolve around me.