People & Society

Ladies, let’s face it: We just are. We are conditioned to believe that we are competing with one another not cooperating with one another. Our desire to be seen, known, loved, admired, and valued is often in the driver’s seat of our relationships, while the backseat driver is fear, insecurity, guilt, and approval. With those 8 things as motivators for our behavior in relationships, is it any wonder that our relationships are strained? I’m not just talking about our friendships, I’m speaking about our relationships with our mothers, mothers-in-law, daughters, daughters-in-law, etc. You name the relationship, and I would be willing to stake money on the fact that there has been some sort of conflict at one point or another and it can be easily traced back to one of these 8 factors.

This isn’t easy. Sharing with you stories of how I have epically failed in relationships with friends and family is a tough level of vulnerability for me. One-on-one, I will share anything, but to put it on display for the world to see is making me want to puke a little. The easiest for me to discuss would be friendships, so I think I’ll start there and choke down the lump in my throat.

“It has always been easier for me to be friends with guys.” At least that is what I have heard myself and others say time and time again. “The straightforward communication from a dude is just my kind of conversation.” “I’m just more like them.” Say what you want, do that, and move on. Is this a reality or a cop-out? The truth is that because of the stark contrast between women and guys, it is easier to not compare ourselves to them. So, when we are without the burden of comparison, friendships are freer to be filled with joy. Teddy Roosevelt has been attributed with saying “Comparison is the thief of joy,” and he would be right.

Maybe you are like me, or maybe you aren’t. Either way, it’s worth taking a look at this female-culture issue. Even in Pre-school and kindergarten, I can remember moments when I felt left out by the girls in my class. I had short curly hair and my mom made me wear saddle shoes. I wasn’t exactly the coolest. The best snacks in lunches were for other kids, but not me. That didn’t stop my muchness from developing. I got a spanking from the principal three times in elementary school and had to sign the paddle with holes (yep, I’m that old!). The first time was in Kindergarten when our teacher couldn’t get control of the class. She kept asking us to be quiet and no one would do it, so I went up to her desk and rang the bell because, obviously, she forgot that is what she needed to do for us to be quiet. Off to the principal I went for being disrespectful. Later that same year, I would take lots of us to the cafeteria to get good snacks during recess, but the problem was that privilege was reserved for first graders. In first grade, the principal gave me a spanking in front of the entire class for being in the classroom without the teacher present. It didn’t matter that another girl told me our teacher said it was OK, I should have known better. I wanted to be seen, known, loved, admired, valued and was I ever a try-hard. I was a bell-ringing, privilege-stealing, trespasser and that was by age 6!

Honestly, I can trace my mistrust of female relationships back that far. To the girl who said it was “OK.” She was also the one who had an older sister who was a cheerleader so she knew everything about being a cheerleader at recess. Man, I was desperate to join that group. A couple times they let me in, but somehow I always was in the back row and didn’t understand their jargon. I couldn’t do the splits, my high V’s looked more like T’s and if by toe-touch you mean bend over and touch your toes, I was golden.

When those girls were over my muchness, I would wander over to the table with the girls who were incredible artists. I mean the ones whose parents drew for cartoons and Disney movies. (LA Private school perks!) I learned how to draw a mermaid in second grade. Mine always looked like a fish with a head of hair, but the patience of those girls to try and help me was stellar! I paid them in Lisa Frank stickers because our trapper-keepers were our identity. I quickly learned, however, that their patience level only lasted as long as my sticker collection held out.

When the stickers were gone, and the desire to try again in the back row of the cheering illuded me, I would join the games of tag, hide and seek, or races on the field with the boys. I can honestly never remember a time that they said “girls can’t play.” I also can never remember a moment when I was bummed that I wasn’t as fast as them. I never asked them to teach me how to run or how to find the best hiding places. My personal level of comparison with the guys was nil and therefore the level of sting, when I sucked at something, was also slim to none. And thus began my life as a friendship floater. Friends with all, besties with none. This pattern would continue through high school where every once in a while I tried to stick to just one group but inevitably something would happen that made me want to wander again.

As an adult, I have seen the big-people version of my childhood experiences unfold and there have been moments when I just cannot for the life of me understand how we haven’t progressed passed second-grade playground friendship tactics. There are still the groups of women that I’d love to join but somehow can’t measure up and just sit quietly in the back row hoping their coolness will rub off on me a little. There are still the artsy girls, so incredibly welcoming and willing to teach me their ways, but we always end in a little giggle when my charcuterie board looks more like I dumped fruit and olives on the counter than an Insta-post-worthy aesthetic. There are still the girls that play better with the boys and somehow we find each other, but now we hang out and laugh and the comparison with one another seems to fade away.

This phenomenon (the work of relationships with women) is alive and well in the church as well as just in daily life. We compare ourselves to one another as wives and as mothers and divide ourselves up by our strengths and weaknesses. We group up with those that are like us and are overly careful about who we let into our circle. In fact, we may have already just put a circle around ourselves (as a circle of one), and never let anyone truly close enough to know the real us. What are we afraid of?

I’ll tell you that the little girl inside all of us is still afraid that we will get laughed to the back of the cheer line at recess. The little girl inside of us is still afraid she won’t have enough Lisa Frank stickers to finish learning how to draw seaweed for the mermaid picture. So, we pretend like it doesn’t hurt that we just don’t fit, and we float from group to group never letting anyone know that we are actually lonely and just simply exist in our circle of one. We may even have convinced ourselves that is all we need and we are quite comfortable in our own little circle. But, are we?

We may be more comfortable with who we are and who we were created to be, but our desire to live in a community is intrinsic. God said that all of his creation was “GOOD,” until something was “NOT GOOD.” It was “NOT GOOD” for man to be alone. Loneliness was not a result of the fall, it is a gift that reminds us we need each other. (Yes, God created Eve for Adam and Yes, this does discuss the marital harmony and balance of man and woman in a complimentary fashion, but that isn’t what I’m discussing today.) That feeling of loneliness, of Adam just wanting a partner that was perfect for him, is not sinful! Our desire to have the companionship that helps us is a beautiful thing. We are people who need people. Any of the conflict that comes in our communities generally comes from our comparison to one another instead of remembering that we actually need each other. That it is NOT GOOD for us to be alone.

If you are struggling in friendships, parenting relationships, in-law relationships, or even marriage, I beg you to consider all of the ways comparison has stolen your joy in these places. Is it possible that your need to be seen, known, loved, admired, and valued is in the driver’s seat, and the backseat driver is fear, insecurity, guilt, and approval? What if you decided to stop comparing yourself to them (or an impossible standard) and started seeing all of their wonderful qualities and your wonderful qualities as complementary? What if you stopped thinking your way was better and started asking if it really mattered? What if you decided that the circle you have drawn around yourself as a protective mode is actually keeping you from living in the fullness of community?

I’ll be the first to tell you that boundaries are important. (I suck at this, but I’m learning!) If someone has hurt you over and over again, it is wise to remember that when Jesus said “turn the other cheek” he wasn’t telling you to be a doormat. He was explaining that staying in relationships with people (even when they are total butt-heads) is important because you never know how you might be used to bring them to a saving grace and knowledge of the Lord. HOWEVER, by turning the other cheek, you are protecting the part of you that has already been hurt (therefore not letting them hit you in the same place twice) and giving them a new opportunity to try again. – People will always disappoint us, but God never will. His faithfulness to us should translate to our faithfulness to others. His love for us should translate to our love for others. His forgiveness of us should translate to our forgiveness of others. So, while we acknowledge that we as women are work, we also hold fast to the truth that he who began a good work in us will be faithful to complete it. We are work, a beautiful work, and the work is worth it.