Vol II: #12 Real Life Shit
I need prayer y’all.
My grieving roommate returns next week, and I’m filled with conflicting thoughts, emotions, and expectations. He left December 11th, exactly eight months from the day he will return. In that span, he buried his father, settled multiple estates, and oversaw repairs to his mother’s house. The poor guy also contracted Coronavirus and had to bury a beloved family dog. So, yeah. He’s had a shit time. I can’t deny or minimize the fire he walked through over the last year.
In my heart, I know I want to be kind and understanding to my friend. I want to be the person so many people were to me, over the last 15 months. My friends overwhelmed me with love and empathy, and no one told me to “get over it” or “man up.” They allowed me to grieve what I lost without pressure or judgment.
As I type, I see clearly what my issue is: I can’t fix him. I can’t remove the pain he feels from his father’s absence. It’s not up to me to heal his broken heart. Restoration is a work of the Holy Spirit, and my roommate has to be a present partner in the process. From what I can tell, in my conversations with him, my friend isn’t ready to walk through healing. He’s not ready to let go, or ready to look to his future with hope and expectation.
The uncertainty is what I don’t like. Selfishly, I want my roommate to put….
Well, shit.
During the composition of this blog post, my roommate texted me. The contractors he hired to repair his mother’s house are MIA, and the project is only 1/3 finished. The house is a wreck, which means he’s not coming back any time soon. Fuck. And, who am I to complain?
Lord, I am begging you for a breakthrough for my friend. Light a righteous fire under the ass of the appropriate managers and workers repairing the house. Shower him with love and peace.
Amen.
