Tear Down That Wall

Someone on social media asked people to share the most important or valuable lesson they have learned in their lifetime.  This was my answer:

"I've learned many valuable lessons, but the one that hits me right now is that building brick walls around myself doesn't protect me; it makes me lonely. Every brick I tear down lets love trickle inside my circle. If I tear down enough bricks, the dam breaks and I'm swallowed in love."

My whole life I've been told how "tough" I am and that I am "rough around the edges."  Those who really know me understand the fallacy in those statements.  I'm not tough at all; just scared. Fear has always permeated my existence.  Fear of acceptance, mostly.  I was not accepted by my peers as a child, and I was a "square" as a teenager.  So I built a wall.  I built a wall so thick, tall, and strong that seemingly nothing could penetrate it.  Then my husband came along.  Danny is nothing if not persistent.  After he proposed to me, I gave him the ring back three times.  Try as I might, I couldn't shake him.  He was like a pit bull after the kill -- except he had a gentle heart.  By the time we were married, I'd dropped a few bricks.

Children came along, and many more bricks were dropped.  I loved those babies.  As they got older, they had needs.  They needed a Camp Fire leader.  They needed someone on the candy committee and other committees.  They needed an area candy chair.  This was way out of my comfort zone, but I dropped more bricks in order to meet their needs.  As bricks fell and broke, I found love and friendship with people I dealt with in Camp Fire.

Lovely little children grew into teenagers who seemed to instinctively know where all the old wounds were.  Bricks began to build again.  One at a time they went up.  This time the wall was higher and fortified.  Guards were placed at all gateways.  No one was ever going to hurt me again -- or so I thought.

A difficult "calling" came in church.  The Bishop called me to be Relief Society President (head of the women's organization) for the congregation.  I was stunned.  I spent the first year trying to do the job with the wall still in place.  It didn't work.  The next 2 1/2 years, the wall began to come down again, one little brick at a time.  I learned to love the sisters I served -- something I never thought would happen because I've always worked much better with men than with women.

I was released from that calling a little more than a year ago.  I removed myself from everyone I had been dealing with and buried my head in the sand.  The wall was mostly down, and I felt vulnerable.  If I hid myself away, maybe I wouldn't get hurt.  Hurt comes from lots of sources.  It came.

This time I discovered something.  Hurt is a part of life.  It's unavoidable.  I finally understand that love sometimes hurts.  I'm trying to keep the wall down.  It's not easy.  When the pain comes, I want to go right back out there and build those bricks. Then I remember those little moments of love when the wall fell.

So I'm trying.  Be patient with me.  Be kind.  I'm not the tough guy everyone thinks I am.  On the contrary, I break easily.  This was not an easy blog post to write.  I'm vulnerable.  The wall is down.