Batteries and Duct Tape.

Some movies are like cheap pudding that you may enjoy but you would never remember or care to talk about the next day. Other movies are more along the lines of cheesecake, in that as I eat it, I savor and let it sit in my mouth for a couple seconds before I swallow. Creamy. Taking small bites so that it lasts a bit longer. Having conversation, but glad that I have a little fork.

I have been thinking about a particular movie all week long. It wasn't preachy, but rather unassuming. The story line involves an orphaned 7 year old boy who, because he is dealing with feelings of abandonment, has developed an unusual defense mechanism. He pretends that he is from another planet and is visiting earth "on a mission." He explains to his newly adopted dad that "they" are coming back to get him and that his mission is nearly over and then, he'll have to be going. Rather than being left again, he will be the one leaving.

Part of his getup is a weighted belt that resists Mars' gravitational pull on him; it keeps him from floating away. Giant batteries held together with duct tape. He knows what he is doing. He is in control. He knows exactly what is going on.

At the end of the movie, the dad says (paraphrased) "Sometimes we forget that children really have just arrived on this planet and are trying their best to learn what being a human is all about." That was my favorite part because it not only reminds me that my little guys are easily influenced by my outlook on life, but also, that all of us are trying to learn what it is to be human.

As I'm savoring this piece of dessert tonight, I'm thinking about how often I wear my own version of a weighted-gravity belt. My own defense mechanisms to make it look like I am in control. You won't have a chance to reject me, because I'm already so busy that I may have to reject you. I am overemphasizing my point with strong words, but people do this.

 I think I refuse to take risks in friendships for fear that my feelings are not reciprocated. There are some people in my life whom I love so tremendously, but I don't want to tell them that. For a few reasons.

1. I may make them feel awkward or guilty for not loving me to the same extent.

2. I may find out that they do not love me to the same extent.

Yeah, I think those are my only reasons.

Oh, here's another one.

3. I don't want to hurt or disappoint someone, because I may feel that love, but I don't know how to follow up with adequate or faithful expressions of love. Then I just look like someone who throws words around and "loves" anyone.

When Bryan and I began to love each other, he told me he would be my friend for forever. It has whispered confidence to me in the middle of a fearful day. I'm so glad that we are now married because I feel safe to tell him that I love him every day without fear that I'm going to smother him. I know that he WANTS to hear it every day. He married me, after all.

Is there a way to have friendships where I can trust that the other person wants my love? And that I can trust that they value me? I don't want to play hard to get with people. Waiting until they offer enough of their assurances of friendships before I open my heart to them?

Perhaps it just takes time and patience to have strong friendships. It takes working and playing side by side. Sweating effort and crying fears. Asking for the other's GPS to make it through your maze. Doing what I am good at and letting them do what they are good at. Looking at people long enough to recognize the surprising treasure in their field.

Deliberation now begins.