WHEN WILL THEY FIGURE IT OUT?

Perhaps there is nothing besides a personal relationship with God that is more stabilizing than women friends in our lives. The fact is, you can do it without them, but you'll be very lonely. Not to mention you'll have about a million words cooped up inside your head that have absolutely no where to go unless you have a woman friend to share them with.

The fact is this...men just don't listen like women do. Even when they do, they really don't want to, at least for that long. Nor do they typically find the things we find earth shattering all that much of a big deal. That used to drive me crazy til' I realized, it's just the way it is. "It is what it is" as my husband says. 

I think anybody reading this blog for more than five minutes knows that I am crazy about my husband. I truly am.And we spend a lot of time (so much more time than most couples) do communicating. In fact, at least an hour a day of undivided communication, outside of our work together. Most women I know wish they had just 10 minutes of the same each day. I know I'm blessed. But I still long for more, in fact, I need more. Lots more.

Larry often gets upset about the same things I do. Sometimes he's downright angry (as angry as he ever gets) about the same exact things I'm upset about. I'll be screaming and ranting about something and he'll say, "honey, I know - I'm in complete agreement with you!" But I'm wondering, "then why isn't he talking about it? Why isn't he all in a tizzy about this?" Truth be told, he is, he just reacts to it different. We can have identical feelings about something but he needs to talk about it for about five minutes, and the same issue, I need about five hours for. If I'm not going to drive him crazy, it's this simple - I need girlfriends. Without them, I have millions of words being held hostage in my head, screaming to get out.

I look at young women who are single, searching for that "perfect man" to spend their life with. Many of them think that when they find them, their life will be complete. They will tell that man everything. He will listen for hours. They will have found their soul mate. There will never again be a need to go anywhere else with the things that give them angst. All they have to do is run home to get the solace and the social interaction they need with their one true love. But the truth is, forty years of living and being friends with, and ministering to thousands of women, has never led me to meet the woman who has found this. When it comes down to it, men are great...and life would be lonely without them. But the fact is, our life is not complete without women friends.

WHEN WILL THEY FIGURE IT OUT? In my experience, it doesn't take women too long to figure this out after marriage. After they have tried repeatedly to get the long hours of undivided attention and communication, talking for hours on the same subject that means so much to them with their man...and just don't get it, then they realize..."I really need to tend to my friendships with women more than I'm currently doing." The light goes on and they realize...I need my sisters to make it.

This is one reason I'm so committed to women's ministries. We need our sisters to make it. Men are wonderful playmates, but they just don't have the wherewithal to listen to us for as many hours as we need them to.

Last year when an absolute IDIOT rear ended my brand new Mustang (a hit and run driver who the police told me was probably an illegal alien without insurance- thus the reason they probably ran), I was so mad, so angry, so broken up. I cried for days. I got on the elliptical and exercised my butt off for hours a day I was so angry. The guy's first 3 initials I saw on the liscense plate were 3FK. In case you didn't know this, the police cannot trace a car based on only three letters or numbers. They need more than that.

I called this guy "Mr. 3FK" and I told everybody to watch for him and call me immediately should they see him anywhere. He told me to pull over in the next parking lot and we'd exchange numbers (we were in the middle of the street.) Instead, he sped away. Jerk. I prayed one of the many people I described him and his car and 3 letters on the plate to would see him and call me. I fantasized about showing up and absolutely blowing him to bits with an AK-47. (or at least taking a baseball bat to HIS car.) You can't imagine the intense anger I had about this. When the police came to the scene I was crying so hard and so upset. They thought I was physically hurt. (I wasn't) They said, "Mam, are you hurt??!" I cried out, "No!!! I am just suffering from a BROKEN HEART!!!!!!!!!!" And I proceeded to sit there and bawl my head off. This was my very first car ever, this Mustang. It was such a special gift from the one I love. Such sentimental value. This was basically vehicular rape if there is such a thing. (I know, there isn't. I'm just trying to grasp a word to describe my pain to you, and truly there is none.) My first car, at 38 years old. And here it was, rear ended - defiled by a moron who did not stay around to pay for his crime. 

I began to take solace of the fact that one day he would answer to God for it although he never had to pay for it financially here on earth . I vividly imagined in my head him being at the judgment seat of Christ and a huge screen coming up...and there before him is a giant silver mustang convertible with 2Revs on the liscense plate. Suddenly he throws himself down upon the mercy of God and says, "I'm sooorrrry!!!!!!" but it's too late, St. Peter is escorting him out, where all hit and run drivers go..............first they are sent to a holding room where they must listen to re-runs of the Rosie O'Donnell show for hours. This is enough to make them scream for mercy. But it gets worse. After sitting in the O'Donnell waiting room, he is escorted down and long dark hallway...it gets hotter and hotter, and he thinks, "am I headed where I think I am?" Suddenly, Peter knocks on big door and when it opens, there stands O.J. Simpson. "Oh noooooooooooooo! I knew I should have paid for that Mustang!," he shrieks. "Now I've ended up HERE for all eternity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Then a booming voice that sounds like Ephram Zimbalist Jr. comes on saying, "And all illegal aliens without insurance who hit Mustangs and run shall have their place next to O.J. in the eternal lake of fire!!" Okay, end of fantasy there...let's get back to what really happened. 

We went home with me hearing all the way Larry's admonition to me about how we just need to be glad we weren't hurt...cars can be fixed/replaced...yada yada yada. He got tired of me talking about my anger and my broken heart. He even told me so. He said point blank, "I don't want to talk about this anymore." I thought he was just an insensitive clod. Finally my friend Maria called. I took the call out to my back patio and sat on my swing. The first two minutes of the call all I did was cry. I couldn't even speak. She talked to me for a long time about it...just let me get it out until I was exhausted of words. She didn't think I was silly or overblowing the matter. She said, "I completely know how you feel...it's okay...just let it out". After that call, I was a different woman. I got off the phone. Came inside. And was fine from that day on. A friend took the time to hear me out until all the words being held hostage inside my head were out. My anger at Mr. 3FK dissipated. I no longer had fantasies of murdering an illegal immigrant or him spending eternity in the lake of fire with O.J. over this. I put my baseball bat away. I came inside and drank a cup of tea.

Thank God for sisters.

p.s. We completely replaced the back end of my Mustang. It looks better than it did before the accident.