Into My Messy Room

One of my dear friends got married a few years ago.  At the rehearsal dinner, I knew as matron of honor I needed a speech of some sort, sharing, etc.  I don't really do that well in front of adults.  Kids yes. Adults, not so much.  I get nervous, a little school girl giggly, shaky, wet spots under the arms and all.  It is what it is.

So when I stood up and realized I had nothing planned to say, I improvised.  I had spent that entire week planning my daughter's 4th birthday (which was the day of the wedding, party was planned the day after the wedding, family coming into town craziness), preparing for the wedding and chasing around my toddler, then I opened my mouth half way afraid of what crazy might come out. 

No one can critique your history with a person, so I first went into how we went to high school together, etc.  Then I went into our relationship.  I used a phrase that the minister liked and used in the sermon the next day.  (What can I say?  I don't love math but imagery tickles my fancy pants).  This is what I said...

You might keep your house fairly clean.  You know, where people can visit, stop by, walk around and not trip.  Say, oh what a nice well kept house you have.  Decent to the eyes.  But then, doesn't everyone have that one room.  Maybe it's a closet.  Maybe it's your master bedroom where all the junk gets dumped to clean up for the party.  Or maybe you're a rock star cleaner and it's your "junk drawer".  But it's a mess.  Maybe it's stuff you haven't gotten around to unpacking so it's full of boxes.  Maybe it's full of luggage.  (Where the heck do you even store luggage?  Christmas gifts are going in ours this year for little girls who might snoop!)  

No one goes in that room.  You tell your kids, "Honey, you can play anywhere with your friends, but don't take them to that room, please. I haven't gotten around to cleaning that one up yet."  (And within all this pleasantry you know full well this room might stay that messy for a while.  Even if you had the time to do it who really wants to??  And you might be slightly afraid that the friend from that "clean house" will tell her mama what she saw...)

And so, no one is allowed to go in because it's filled with baggage.  This friend had been in my dirty room.  She had seen it through the years.

It has clutter.  It's unkempt.  It could potentially be embarrassing.  It's full of stuff I have no idea of what to do with.  Sometimes I walk in that room and throw my hands up saying it's too much for me to handle. So I close that door.  And I typically don't open it to anyone, unless that one or two people who know about it ask to go in.  And sometimes I let them if I'm feeling brave.  (So my story at the dinner ended a few paragraphs ago and didn't have all these details, but I continue with my imagery...)

However, on another note, maybe one day, you decide to show a friend that room, and low and behold they laugh.  They judge you. Or worse, they tell someone else and use your name.  And you're thinking, you have a messy room in your house too!  (Pause here to say I've been burned before.  Chances are you have too.  Maybe it was in middle school when you liked that boy and your girlfriend told the whole class.  Maybe it was in adulthood when you had that problem that maybe someone had "diarrhea of the mouth" and just blurted out your dirt, personal problem, etc to other people, their kids, whoever didn't need to know it.  It happens.  And usually those people don't hear anything else from you.)

And then you might realize they might not be close friend material.  They don't need to go in that room again.  It has happened to me.  My progression of sharing with people through the years has led to sharing with a smaller and smaller amount of people.  (Until I blog about it and then, bam!  Lots and lots of people are partying in my dirty room!  Oh yeah!)

But I've been in other people's messy rooms before, too.  A couple of years ago, someone told me something so personal about them that they were embarrassed to even get it out of their mouths.  It carried shame for her.  (Let me tell you shame is not from God.  God does not shame us.)  It was filled with pain.  I was heart broken for her.  At the time, I hope I offered understanding, love.  But, having been burned before, I felt like I needed to send a message.  And maybe the fact that this precious person had been a little tipsy that night made me realize that I needed to say something.  Because maybe she never remembers saying it at all, but I just needed to.  "I just want you to know I cried for you on the way home.  I treat secrets like fine china.  Your words are safe with me." 

And so we share our messy rooms sometimes.  And we are filtered when we do so.  Because as my husband says, "You gotta hold your cards close."  But I hope through the years that we all find someone or a couple of someones to share that mess with.  Perhaps someone who can offer prayer, support and a little tough love with the things that need cleaning.  Maybe a little nudge to encourage you to be brave.  And tackle that room.