The Project and The Pawn

I can still see her—one foot in the car, one foot out. It was such a hot day and the heat coming in battled the cool from the air conditioner. It wasn’t the only battle going on. Things had gotten heated before the door was ever opened and her instinct was . . . run! It had become clear that she had no idea how to handle conflict and time and again—in our relationship and probably every other one in her life—she just avoided conflict all together. Run. Even if it meant giving up the relationship.

But then, that’s what everyone else had done in her life. Her mother had abandoned her at the age of three. Her father had never been there. Family had brought dysfunction and abuse. Friends had stayed only as long as there was something in it for them. So, the fact that only one foot was out of the car, I considered a win.

I was proud of her really, she was staying. She was saying some of the things that were on her heart. She was fighting for this relationship. I wanted desperately for her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere. That I would stay. Even as she said things that were hurtful and, sometimes, mean-spirited, I stayed. And, honestly, I probably needed to hear some of those “hurtful” things she had to say. I thank God that he has put women in my life who have been brave enough to be honest with me. She wasn’t the only one who needed to change.

I think the comments she hurled were something like, “Oh, sure, Kaia! You’re right. You’re always right. White is right and I’m just a messed-up Indian. You make me feel like such a project. I know it makes you feel good to “help poor me” but, honestly, you just make me feel like s**t!!”

Ouch! Part of me wanted to run at that point. Just put ‘er in gear and pull away. I didn’t need to sit there and take such abuse! But . . . maybe I did. Thank God, he had been working on that whole humility thing. On that vulnerability thing. On that you’re not really perfect yourself, Kaia, thing. I stayed. I cried . . . we cried. But we laid some things on the table that really needed to be looked at.

She was right. It was true—and we have to get to a place where we can admit it. In many ways, I did consider her a project. And it did make me feel good to “help.” I thought I was better and that I could fix her. What I was coming to realize was that I was not better, but Christ was better. That she didn’t need me or my wisdom. She needed God and his wisdom. She wasn’t my project. She was my friend. But, somehow, without realizing it, my “helping” was actually hurting.

In another conversation, same friend (we have had a few heart-to-hearts along the way!), it was my turn to vent some frustrations. I wish we could all be mature enough to discuss the hard things without the heat of emotion, but so often that is when the hard truths come to light. I don’t remember the straw that broke the camel’s back but, once again, she was calling . . . only because she needed something. It seemed like that was the only time she ever initiated in the relationship—when she needed something. I tried to show grace. I tried to show unconditional love. I tried to remember my trauma training—that because of her background she operated in survival mode. She had a lifetime’s experience of “using” people, because that was how she had made it this far. But, that day, it just sort of came out. 

“You know how you said it feels like I treat you like a project? Well, some days I just feel like a pawn. Somebody you can just take advantage of. You only call when you need something. It feels like you ignore me in between. Do you even like me? Are we friends? Or am I just a taxi service and hand-out?” Even as I said it, I wished I could take it back. But then, maybe it was something that she needed to hear. Maybe, like me, she needed someone in her life who would speak truth, be honest about things.

I am pretty sure we both cried again that time. I thank God for the gift of tears. It isn’t lost on me that we are the only thing in his creation that cries. But in those most vulnerable of moments, when hard truths were shared, in the tenuous balance between fight or flight . . . I think tears kept us both in the game. I think tears revealed the deep love we had for each other. That our relationship was worth fighting for. And so, we stayed. We talked though this struggle, of being project or pawn. Where did we go from here? What did we need to do? How did we move on? How did we get beyond this, now obvious, hurdle in our relationship? 

We haven’t gotten it figured out yet. I wish I had more to share on that. Maybe someday, down the road. But then, maybe just seeing the hurdle is the first step. The willingness to overcome, together. To figure out how to get over it or around it, together. I think staying is the first step. Because the easy thing is to run. But the best things in life are never easy.

“If someone slaps you on one cheek,

turn to them the other also.

If someone takes your coat, do not

withhold your shirt from them.”

Luke 6:29 NIV

“Therefore I endure everything for the

sake of the elect, that they too may

obtain the salvation that is in Christ

Jesus, with eternal glory.”

2 Timothy 2:10 NIV

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does

not envy, it does not boast, it is not

proud. It does not dishonor others, it is

not self-seeking, it is not easily

angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but

rejoices with the truth. It always

protects, always trusts, always hopes,

always perseveres.”

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV