Monsters in the Closet

Proverbs 17:17 - A friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in a time of need. 

Laundry is my constant enemy.  Just when I feel like I've conquered it, someone spills a drink and it multiplies like evil beasts in a cheesy 1980's horror flick.  It's the worst kind of monster.  Patient.  Relentless.  Disguised in frilly skirts and Dora panties.

To escape my garment gremlins, I frequently clean out drawers.  To make it in my house, you better get worn more than once, not require ironing, have an adjustable waistband, and be stain-resistant.  Otherwise, it's adios.  Better luck next time.

My son and I cleaned out his drawers last week.  They'd gotten so full, he couldn't shut them without the laundry monster sticking out its taunting tongue.  I designated a Keep pile, a Donate pile, and a Not Sure pile.  He got to work, spreading out every shirt and unfolding every pair of shorts.  After a few seconds of thought, he set each one in the Keep pile.  The only thing he was Not Sure about was whether or not to Donate his things to strangers.

It's not that the boy has no compassion.  In fact, it's one of his many gifts.  The thing is, he extends his bountiful grace to his belongings.  Because that two-sizes-too-small Transformers t-shirt will get its feelings hurt if he gives it away.  I tried.  I explained that needy little boys would be thrilled to have that t-shirt.  He looked at me skeptically.  He was not thrilled.  His response: "I can save it for my kids."

I asked him why he didn't want to give away any of his clothes.  With a wisdom I didn't know an eight-year-old could possess, he said, "Mommy, you know I don't like change."

I get that.  Boy, do I ever.  Letting go is difficult, even if it's just a t-shirt.  Sometimes it's the memories that seasoned old shirt holds
(what happens in lady's apparel, stays in lady's apparel)
and sometimes it's less sentimental
(I'll wear it again when I lose weight...get it altered...it goes vintage...).
Either way, we shove it at the back of the closet and forget about it until the laundry monster starts sticking out its textile tongue.  Then we take it out, give it a few seconds thought...and shove it into a plastic box under the bed. 

Like I said, letting go is hard.

My emotions don't always fit just right, either.  They are often too tight or too loose or too bright or too bland or too brazen or too boring.  Whatever they are, wearing them in public makes me feel too vulnerable, so I put them on shelf or cram them in a drawer and pretend they don't exist.  Every once in while, I pull them out and look at them with
(anger, remorse, longing, bitterness, nostalgia, affection)
the same old eyes, but I never examine them for value, never see if they are past their sell-by date.  They get put right back where I don't have to look at them.

The trouble is, emotions don't like to be left alone.  Funny things can happen in the dark.  Anger ferments into Resentment.  Fear and Worry breed like spores in a petri dish.  Guilt feeds on Joy.  Love dies. 

I've always cherished my friends, but only recently I realized that God has put people in my life to encourage me to take out those emotions and examine them.  On Sunday afternoon, my pastor's 18-year-old daughter surprised me by saying, "When I saw you at church this morning, I thought, 'I want to be just like Courtney when I get older!'" My first reaction was to duck-and-cover.  If ever God was going to strike me down, it had to be that moment.  You heard me say it was the pastor's daughter, right???  I nervously replied with something about how she would never want to be like me.  She looked a little perplexed, and I quickly turned away.  Propriety gnawed at my gut, so I did the right thing, turned back, and thanked her.  But the moment had passed.  The compliment had been swallowed up like a mirage in a thirsty desert.

Gratitude has a permanent spot on a shelf way back in the corner of my closet.  I don't take compliments well.  They make me uncomfortable.  Every time I am blessed with a compliment, the devil whispers in my ear that it's all a lie.  And I believe him.

The enemy doesn't want me confronting any of my emotions.  He wants my Anger to ferment.  He longs for my Fear and Worry to breed.  He steals my Joy and spoon feeds it to my Guilty Conscience.  He murders my Love with his poison-tipped whispers.

But when I call on Jesus, He responds with simple, yet impenetrable words:  Get behind me, Satan!  And though He is the only Friend I will ever need, He loves me so much that He gives me even more: people with arms to hold me and shoulders to cry on and tongues to remind me of His Truth.

Ever since Anna's beautiful compliment, I've made an effort to think about the divine friends God has blessed me with, and how they remind me that the real ME isn't stuffed in a corner somewhere...  

...my friend who never gets tired of my whining and consistently reminds me that God has a plan. 

...my friend who has been to hell and back, and could still see the worth in this sinful, messy woman.

...my friend who leaves me in awe of her neverending loyalty.

...my friend who knows me inside and out, and isn't afraid to open every can of worms hiding in my closet. 

...my friend who hung in there when I was crazy and doubtful and unfaithful and afraid; who never, ever gave up on me; who saw me ugly and snotty and blubbering, and still thought I was beautiful.

How convenient it is to keep festering emotions hidden on a shelf!   I totally get it.  It's easier on the old ego to post the picket fence as your status update than it is to expose your beautiful mess of a life.  The irony is, God "friended" you with those folks so you wouldn't have to hold on to those whispered lies.  Take down your Anger and your Joy and your Fear and your Gratitude, and share the real YOU with your friends!  Jesus promises that a friend is always loyal, even when faced with your cluttered closets and dirty drawers.

Sunday afternoon, God sent an angel to open my eyes.  I've been pulling emotions out of dark corners ever since.  Last night, I found my Joy, smoothed out the wrinkles, and went on a date with one handsome boy and two exquisite little girls.

Funny thing about Joy...

It never goes out of style.