Throughout my life, I’ve wanted a greater depth of relationship with my parents. Instead, they want to give me things. Yes, they’ve helped financially from time to time. But it stops there. When I want to go deeper, I’m met with either misunderstanding, or resistance. What more could you want? is the implicit question. What more?
Someone to call for advice.
Someone who’s there when I’m hurting.
Someone who cares beyond the surface.
Believe me, I’ve tried.
And I’m learning to let go of my expectations. I can’t make anyone be what I want them to be, shape them into someone, or something, else. I can only take what is, and work with that.
It’s the same with God.
He’ll only take what we yield to Him, and no more. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock,” He says. “If anyone hears My voice, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” Jesus doesn’t force His way in; rather, He knocks, waiting to be let in.
It’s the same with other people: we can only go so far as they’ll let us. To which the only response–the only sane response–is:
“God, grant me the courage to change the things I can, the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
It just flat out sucks when it’s someone close to you, because you don’t want to be that person subsisting on crumbs, but you can’t make them give more than they’re willing, or able, to give.
You learn to take what you can get. Hope for more, but learn–as Jesus did–to accept this world as it is.
Not as you would have it be.
And that’s a hard thing. When you can’t make someone love you the way you need. Because it’s more than they have to give.