I hold my bible and notebook pressed against my chest while we finish our conversation in the empty parking lot under the oak and pine. We are the last women to leave our small group, standing in the breeze a car length apart.
As we linger over the problems of parenting and the color of our hair, church talk slips in. Talking about church is taboo for me when people begin to compare their affiliations like a chili cook-off. Someone is going to get offended, no matter how great their recipe tastes. And Jesus loves chili.
The more we talk, I realize that I’ve been cooking chili for much longer but she isn’t really interested in my experience or palette. And you can’t give understanding where the heart is closed to receive it.
After I crawl into my van, throw my purse and stack of books on the passenger seat, I lean into the steering wheel and wish I had windshield wipers for my eyes. Because even when you know you have something to add to the conversation that is light to the dim room of circumstance, you have to drive away. And go buy some chili powder from the nice lady at Food Lion.
Because Jesus didn’t die so I could be understood.
Have you ever had to let go of being understood?
This is #17 in the series 31 Days of Letting Go. You can read the collective here. If you are a writer, I invite you to link up any post you’ve written on the theme of letting go in the comments here on Friday. Subscribe to receive the series in your inbox or feed by adding your address in the side bar under Follow Redemptions Beauty.