Marvelously Messy

Navigating the Complexities of Relationships

To be honest, I have a lot of broken relationships in my life that I have no idea how to repair. So, let me start by saying: I’m far from an expert on this subject. I’m not someone who has it all figured out. What I can offer, though, is what I’ve learned from my own good, bad, and heartbreaking experiences.

Relationships are messy. They’re beautiful, but they’re also complicated, fragile, and sometimes painful. I’ve learned these lessons the hard way through many mistakes and losses, but also through moments of grace. And if there’s one thing that gives me hope, it’s that no matter how broken or hopeless a relationship may seem, there’s always room for healing, growth, and love. It may not always look the way we expect, and it may not happen on our timeline, but it’s possible.

When I was young, I witnessed my father’s constant relationship struggles. He eventually had a falling out with most people he knew and he always believed it was the other person’s fault. He never apologized, never took accountability, and never forgave. I remember deciding as a child that I didn’t want to be like him. I promised myself I’d never let division take root in my relationships.

But life has a way of humbling us, doesn’t it? Over the years, I’ve learned that no matter how much I want to repair a relationship, I can’t do it alone. It takes two people who are mutually committed to bridge the gap.

Photo by Ricardo Moura on Unsplash

And sometimes, it’s not healthy, or even possible, to maintain every relationship. There are moments when I’ve had to walk away from people who were abusive or harmful, even though I loved them. Letting go, I’ve learned, can sometimes be an act of love - for them and for myself.

I have five grown children, and my relationships with them have been some of the greatest joys and deepest heartbreaks of my life. After my divorce, the family I had devoted my life to fell apart. I experienced a severe emotional breakdown, and in my pain, I made choices that I deeply regret.

For the past 15 years, my two youngest children have wanted nothing to do with me. The pain of that estrangement is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But I’ve also spent years rebuilding relationships with my three oldest daughters. It’s been a slow, often painful process, but we are making progress.

During the darkest time in my life, I lost not only my children but also most of my family and friends. The few who stayed seemed more interested in judging me than supporting me. Some of those relationships I’ve been able to repair; others I’ve had to leave behind.

Today, I’m surrounded by people who see and accept me for who I am - who don’t judge me for my past. I also have the tremendous blessing of a 3 year old grandson whose sweet innocent love for his Gigi is the joy of my life. That doesn’t erase the wounds of the relationships I can’t mend, but it has brought great comfort and healing.

There have been times when the pain of broken relationships has tempted me to shut the world out. I understand why some people choose loneliness over the risk of more heartache. I’ve been there. But I’ve found that what I need isn’t to withdraw from people in order to isolate myself but to withdraw into the arms of the One who knows exactly what I need. When I feel like I have nothing left to give, I lean into God’s love, which never fails. Only This Love has the power to truly heal the wounds in my heart and renew my strength.

Experiencing God’s love reminds me that no human being is capable of loving perfectly. We all fail each other, even when we don’t mean to. We let each other down. We bring expectations into our relationships - expectations of what we’ll receive - when true love is actually about what we can give.

My mother once said to me, “Your expectations may be reasonable, but are they realistic?” I’ve reminded myself of those wise words often over the years, because the truth is, no matter how reasonable my expectations may seem to me, they can often miss the reality of others’ circumstances and limitations.

My relationship with God has transformed the way I approach relationships. The more I nurture that connection, the freer I become from looking to others to meet my needs. Instead of bringing my expectations to my loved ones, I bring them to God, who I trust to provide what I need in the best way and time.

This shift has helped me focus more on how I can love others rather than how they can love me. I’m learning to extend the same grace to others that I hope to receive myself. And I’ve stopped measuring my worth - or anyone else’s - by how perfectly we meet each other’s expectations.

Of course, this doesn’t mean I always get it right. I still struggle with pride, selfishness, and fear of rejection. But I’m learning to see others with grace and compassion. And I’ve come to see forgiveness as less about a feeling and more about a deliberate decision to let go of bitterness and open the door to healing.

Photo by Gurth Bramall on Unsplash

As a mother, I’ve gotten glimpses of God’s unconditional love. My love for my children is as close as I can get to a love without expectations. Though my younger children have written me out of their lives, I would not hesitate for one moment to be there for them if they needed me. I long for them to come home, just as God longs for all of us to come home.

There’s nothing my children could do that would make me stop loving them. And if I, an imperfect human, can feel that way, how much more does God love us? God’s love is greater, deeper, and more powerful than we can begin to imagine.

1 Corinthians 13 has become my guide for how I want to love. It says that love is patient and kind. It isn’t jealous, selfish, or proud. Love doesn’t keep a record of wrongs or become angry easily. Love always trusts, hopes, and perseveres. Love never fails.

That’s the kind of love I want to bring into my relationships. A love that is patient and kind, without pride or selfishness. A love that doesn’t keep score or hold grudges. A love that doesn’t demand perfection from others or from myself. I’m learning to let go of my need to control and instead to leave space for understanding and grace.

Because at the heart of every relationship we all want to know, “Do I matter to you? Do you see me? Do you hear me?”

This is especially true for those in prison, where broken relationships and deep wounds are often the norm. Forgiveness, communication, and love are even more critical in these spaces, where isolation and despair can feel overwhelming.

Relationships are hard. But I’ve come to believe that they are worth the effort. Relationships are what give life meaning.

We were created for relationship by a relational God. And while we may love imperfectly, our relationships with one another are one of the ways we experience God’s perfect love.

So today, I choose to keep my heart open to others, even when it feels risky (and let’s face it; it kind of always does). I choose to let love be my guide. And when relationships feel broken beyond repair, I hold on to the hope that God’s love is constant - always present, always restoring.

Our Creator sees us, hears us, and cares for us more deeply than we can imagine.

That Love is what gives me hope. And that’s a love I want to share - not perfectly, but with my whole heart.