I Don’t Want to Be a Rock.

A few days ago a friend asked me, “Have you ever wanted to just, tell the guy you like that you like him? Even though you could make things awkward?”

She had no idea that she was about to open the floodgates.

After spouting off at least four giants reasons why doing that would be bad, we just talked for a little while.

I advised her not to hint at him. Guys, in my experience, and from what everyone I know has told me, don’t get hints. Hinting just sets you up to feel bad inside. I also explained that “woman-speak” (my own term) was dangerous and not great to practice either. (Woman-speak is essentially when we say something that’s just coated in bait, and when the guy doesn’t answer in the way we want him to, we jump on him. Is the correct response obvious to us? Yes. To the guy? Nope, and it’s terribly unfair.)

Who wants to be remembered as flirty, confusing, and “woman-speaky”? Not everyone on this planet is going to like us. Some people won’t even like us as people. Others will see us as friends, as siblings, and romantically. But since we don’t really know who sees us as what, why go around being a common rock when you can be remembered as a pearl?

I’d rather be a pearl. Carry myself with dignity. Kindness. Be remembered by people for it. There are plenty of rocks in this world. I don’t really want to be one of them.

As a teenager, emotions are hard. You want a relationship, but you know you aren’t ready. You like someone, but you’re afraid to tell them. Someone might like you, and you don’t know how to tell them you don’t see them the same way.

It’s so easy to be a rock, too. Why not flirt a little? Why not bait him, confuse him? Why not pay attention to her for a few days, but then move on to someone prettier?

Rocks are things you throw. You trip over them. You skip them across a pond. You kick them, you try and break them, you stand on them. All I’m hearing is heartbreak. I don’t want to leave and have heartbreak in my wake. I want to be a pearl.

You keep pearls. They’re treasures. Rare. Special. Things of beauty. Something you don’t want to lose.

As teenagers, interacting Biblically is hard, because our old nature is pulling at us to stay a rock. But the fruit of the spirit are clearly pearl-like attributes. Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.

Am I a pearl? No, not yet. I’m working on it, though. Asking God to transform me into the woman He designed me to be. Cooperating with Him. And doing my best not to be a rock to somebody.

Nobody wants to be a rock when they can be a pearl.

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Hermit Day.

I’m an only child. I don’t have any siblings, as the previous sentence suggests, and therefore, friendship is very important to me. Some friends are close enough to be siblings at times.

I’m also understandably social because of this. To the best of my understanding, I’m an ambivert. I have a lot of introverted friends, but I’m definitely not an introvert or an extrovert.

Why am I explaining all this?

Because I’d like to declare that today, I wish to be a hermit.

I’m not being serious, of course. Not entirely. And I’ve never really had one of these days before. But in this particular moment, when some of the people in my life have let me down to some extent, I’d like to just go off alone.

This thought shocks me. I’m an only child, and my brain wishes to suggest I’d like to be alone forever? Preposterous.

For as much as I bother my friends to talk to me, they’d scoff at the idea of my escaping from the rest of the world. “Lexi?” they’d snort. “She couldn’t last a day without trying to talk to me or someone else.”

Which is true, I probably couldn’t.

So, I couldn’t be a hermit. And if I could, I wouldn’t be able to stay a hermit very long.

However, today, I feel as if I’d like to be a hermit. Forget people. Forget our fleshly imperfections. Forget it all. I’ll be in a closet with a cat, a box of chocolates, and a stack of great books, if you need me.

(By the way, guys. I’ll email you tomorrow.)