My cup hath runneth out.
I recognize, acknowledge and am willing to put forth the intentionality and effort it takes to initiate and maintain relationships. But it’s an impossible feat to accomplish alone. I’m being reminded of the rarity of good friends. I’m fearful that the melancholy isolated feeling is creeping back into my life.
I know it is my nature to pour out. I’m realizing, in return, I need some poured in for me to be able to continue pouring out. I easily forgive excuses of busyness and hectic schedules when plans are cancelled and postponed. At times I feel like I’ve turned into a welcome mat, walked upon carelessly and effortlessly, in my efforts to display grace and understanding. I don’t want to lose my dignity. I don’t want to be trampled. Yet I’m starting to show signs of wear-and-tear.
I know that good things are worth fighting for, and that they are worth effort, time, patience, understanding, pain and forgiveness. I’m feeling a bit bruised and battered. It’s a good thing. It’s part of the process. It makes this all worthwhile. And it reminds me that life was never promised to be easy. I’ll keep fighting. But I could use a little tag team. We’ll even get jerseys if we make a good team.