The Chair She Pulls Up

There are people who can make you feel like an older version of yourself without ever saying a word.

You can spend years growing.

Healing.

Finding your voice.

Learning to trust yourself again.

And then you sit down across from someone whose approval once mattered that much...

and the old version of you pulls up a chair.

The one who measured her words before she said them.

The one who wondered how everything would be received.

The one who made herself smaller to keep the peace.

The one who confused being loved with being approved of.

Maybe you know her too.

Recently I caught myself getting ready for a conversation that scared me.

Not because I didn't know what I wanted to say.

Because I was afraid of who I might become when I walked in.

And I don't want to do that anymore.

I don't want to carry old versions of myself into old relationships.

I don't want to ask permission for the voice God gave me.

But I don't want growth to make me hard, either.

I want to honor somebody else's feelings without abandoning my own.

To listen without shrinking.

To apologize when I need to without apologizing for who I have become.

To tell the truth without using it as a weapon.

Maybe that is what healing looks like.

Not refusing to dance.

Just learning new steps.

So if there is a conversation sitting in front of you with someone who once had the power to make you feel small...

maybe this prayer is yours too.

Pull up a chair.

Let's pray.

Father,

You know the relationships that still touch tender places in us.

You know the people whose approval we wanted so badly that somewhere along the way we learned to make ourselves smaller.

So before we ask You to change anybody else's heart...

change ours.

Take the fear that makes us small.

Take the need to defend ourselves before anything has even been said.

Take the old patterns that taught us to measure our worth by somebody else's approval.

Give us different words this time.

Words that honor other people without surrendering ourselves.

Words full of grace, humility, courage and truth.

And Father, work in their hearts too.

Soften what needs softening.

Heal what still needs healing.

Help us listen when there are things we need to hear.

Give us humility when there are things we need to own.

And when two people remember the same story differently, give us enough grace to leave room for both.

Most of all, God, don't let us walk into today's conversations as the people we were when the wounds were made.

We have changed.

You changed us.

Teach us how to meet old relationships from this new place.

Maybe we don't have to repeat the old dance anymore.

Maybe it is time for new steps.

New boundaries.

New grace.

A new way of loving people without losing ourselves.

We cannot control how another person responds.

So help us release that.

And when we sit down across from them, let us recognize the woman sitting in our chair.

Steady.

Loving.

Respectful.

Unashamed of her voice.

And no longer willing to become small in order to be loved.

Lord, lead this new dance.

We trust You with their hearts.

And we trust You with ours.

Amen.

Here is the part I keep coming back to.

You don't have to become small again just because you are standing somewhere you used to be small.

Maybe healing was never about refusing to dance with those people again.

Maybe it is about finally letting God teach you the new steps.

With light and love,

Kristi J

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