Where I end and you begin.

My husband and I watched the movie Something Borrowed this last weekend, and the main character, played by Ginnifer Goodwin, is a push-over. She lets her best friend walk all over her and then starts to realize what's been happening and gets all mad at her best friend...that is, until her guy best friend (who is, of course, also in love with her) points out how really she only has herself to be mad at because she is the one who let herself get walked over. She remained silent when she should have spoken, and it was time for her to take responsibility for her own communication.

I was sitting at my desk at work today, typing away, and thinking about how lying is wrong, how God says that it is a sin. And I bet you would agree with me, whether you believe that the Bible is true or not. Lying is wrong because it hurts people. But then I was realizing that I usually only apply that to lies that hurt someone else. But how many times have I said, "Oh, that's okay," when it wasn't or, worse, remained silent in a time when clear communication was needed, and hurt myself deeply? Lies are always wrong, because they always hurt someone. And I am just as precious to Christ as the people around me are. He is just as angry about me hurting myself as He is about me hurting other people.

I read an amazingly informative book called Boundaries: When to Say Yes and When to Say No to Take Control of Your Life--twice. (Well, one and a half times.) The basic principle of the book is that just as our skin acts as a physical boundary to tell us where we end and another person begins, we have boundaries of responsibility and ownership in our lives. Let me take an illustration from the book:

There was this couple that came to one of the authors (it was either Cloud or Townsend) for help. Their son was out of control and they kept bailing him out and they talked with deep pain and frustration about what he was putting them through. When they were done talking, Cloud/Townsend looked straight at them and said, "It sounds like you have a problem." They were flabbergasted. (Yes! I love that I got to use that word in my blog.) "What do you mean we have a problem?!" they retorted. (Ooh, "retorted"! Okay, enough with the commentary...) "Our son is the one with the problems." Cloud/Townsend answered calmly, "You are not allowing your son to have problems. By bailing him out, you are making his problems your problems." The truth started to sink in and their behavior started to change.

I thought this book was very wise, and then today, I saw its wisdom in real life. I decided last night to stand up to someone I haven't been standing up to, and it did not go well, and I got really bent out of shape about it. And then, out of somewhere divine, this sense of well-being and security and peace came over me, and I realized that all I have to control is what I can control--my own communication and my own reactions. How the other person reacts or communicates is past my boundary line of responsibility. In other words, I am not held responsible for the state of my neighbor's lawn, and I am given grace even when my grass gets too long. So are they.

I feel like this lesson I've been learning has aged me about seven years, wisdom-wise. I feel much more peaceful.

Much more self-contained.