Maybe it's natural introversion, or maybe it's a learned trait from multiple childhood friendship betrayals, or maybe it's a combination of the two... howe'er it be, I am an extremely private person. While I enjoy listening and drawing others into talking about themselves, their trials, and their desires, ask me how I'm doing and the answer is likely to be, "oh, I'm fine."
An acquaintance surely doesn't actually want to know what's actually going on in my life - a budding friendship might be blighted by my honesty - then a developed relationship might be crippled by the revelation of my past secrecy - and so on. There's never a point at which vulnerability seems like a safe choice, so I remain hidden.
But that is not a healthy way to live. We need accountability; people with whom to multiply our joys and divide our sorrows; people we can call and ask for prayer, knowing they'll accept a midnight trip to the ER with a sick toddler and the end of a day filled with tiny frustrations with equal gravity, grace, and concern.
I'd love to be surrounded by such people, but I recognize that is not a likely result of my tortoise-like method of developing friendships. So I'll continue on at my slow but thorough pace, letting the hares hop over me impatiently, put off by my taciturn exterior - and I'll be the more grateful for those who know me (and love me) enough to refuse to allow me to remain hidden in my shell.
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