I recently had the wonderful opportunity (though it did not seem wonderful in the least) to grow in sympathy by experiencing the deep pain of a very personal rejection.
Very personal, though not my own.
I think I could have handled it with so much more detachment if it had been mine alone. For (sarcasm) I have been given the amazing super power of erecting sudden walls that have the ability to keep practically everyone at arms length for years on end. But you see it wasn’t my rejection. It was the rejection of someone I loved more than myself, and to watch them suffer truly broke my heart.
But before my heart could rightly break, my anger had to. It had to find a voice. I wanted to hit something. No. Someone. I wanted to rail, to rage, to confront, to stomp… to cry. And I chose the most familiar voice.
In the end, I literally put myself between my friend and her accusers. Moved her behind me , putting her between me and the wall. And I prayed as hot tears fell and I sought to keep evil at bay (another superpower) for a moment … as my soul wept out loud.
Though I knew I wasn’t, I felt very alone.
And then they came. As welcome as a warm wind in the dead of winter: The family. Not family of blood, but family of faith, stronger and kinder most times, choosing you rather than tolerating you because of shared DNA. Stealth family. They moved in silently and claimed the air before anyone knew what had happened. The atmosphere shifted around me. Reinforcements had come. And I could breathe again, as she and I were quietly and completely engulfed in a safe circle. A momentary personal sanctuary… built of friends.
And I no longer felt alone.
In that moment, as rending pain and piercing aloneness was swallowed up in fierce friendship and God-company, He reminded me that this is what He does… this standing between our accuser and us all the while surrounding us with fresh family, and purposeful wing-men.
I was and am so grateful… for both.
We faced the pain together, because that was the right thing to do. And when we left the battlefield, we left whole. We left as one.
That too was right.Flanks covered, prayers offered, the accuser lost.
Again.
Again.
And the safe circle…
Remains unbroken.
Barbie Loflin 
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