It’s no revelation that we all struggle and that we all mask
our struggles. We pretend that we’re alright, that we’re functioning adults. Part
of growing up is learning that adults don’t know it all. Adults don’t have it
all together. We’re still scared little children, just with more scars. We
pretend that we know what we’re doing, because otherwise, society would cease
to function. We put out a stiff upper lip, put on a mask, and get on with it.
And then we get home at the end of the day, and the
insincerity, doubt, unfulfilled dreams, and regrets creep back in. When drowning
in your own struggles, it’s difficult to see that everyone else is struggling
too. But that isolation only makes it all worse.
Recently a friend said, “Some days it feels like I’m alone
in the desert and some days it feels like everybody is here.” I found it a
comforting statement. There are others struggling too. My fear, loneliness, and
desperation do not make me weird; they make me human. Is there anything more
reassuring than hearing, “I understand. Me too.”?
Connecting to someone at a real level, where you take off
the mask and reveal your weaknesses, is one of the best ways to fight evil. You
see the child of God behind the adult. You see that your struggle need not be a
solitary one. Your souls delight in the reminder that you are not alone. C. S.
Lewis said, “Friendship is born
at that moment when one person says to another: ‘What! You too? I thought I was
the only one.’”
With Lent beginning, it’s important to remember that we are
called to the desert, but we don’t have to go alone. We are part of a
community. We are all suffering. We are all working toward the same goal. The
journey will be less desperate if we can just look one another in the eye and
say, “Me too.”
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