Intimacy, hijacked

I find myself struggling.

Some days I handle the pictures and posts well.
Other days, I'm left shaking my head.

Social media has done its work on me.  I realize the line between personal and public has so been eroded that the discernment is gone and every moment is fair game.

Intimacy: (noun)
1) the state of being intimate: Familiarity
2) something of a personal or private matter

For something to be personal or private - to me - means it is not put on display for tens or hundreds to see.  Yet, here's where the path turns:

We are so used to having tens or hundreds or even thousands of people know our business, that we now have to put on display the good, the bad and the ugly.  We thrive off the feedback, the "likes", the comments and opinions.

I'm not saying vulnerability or transparency is a bad thing.  Confessing our sin, our struggles, those days we can't get it together, is a good thing.  Sharing in our victories and successes make them so much sweeter.

But what is the good we are hoping will come out of it?  And if we haven't shared the highs and lows and everything in-between, does that mean we are really living life?

In the wake of her father's death, she says it well to the naysayers who didn't like how privately she lived:

I will be leaving this account for a bit while I heal and decide if I'll be deleting it or not," she wrote. "In this difficult time, please try to be respectful of the accounts of myself, my family and my friends. Mining our accounts for photos of dad, or judging me on the number of them is cruel and unnecessary. There are a couple throughout, but the real private moments I shared with him were precious, quiet, and believe it or not, not full of photos or 'selfies'. I shared him with a world where everyone was taking their photo with him, but I was lucky enough to spend time with him without cameras too. That was more than enough, and I'm grateful for what little time I had. My favorite photos of family are framed in my house, not posted on social media, and they 'll remain there. They would've wound up on the news or blogs then, and they certainly would now. That's not what I want for our memories together..."

Zelda Williams writes this of her time with her daddy, Robin Williams.

If her relationship is anything with him like mine was/is with my daddy these are some things they shared:  he's the first man that ever held open a door for her, took her on jet-ski rides and surprised her with Broadway tickets.  He was the loudest yeller at her basketball games (not necessarily a good thing), stayed up late when she had ear infections, bought her her first diamonds, and loves it when she calls him since distance makes personal visits few and far between.  She watched him battle through cancer and had painful discussions about what could happen. He has been at the birth of all four of her boys and he loves mailing them "treats" in the mail.

Those pictures, those memories, those conversations are  precious to me.  Those are discussions stored in my heart and pictures on the refrigerator.

They aren't posted all over social media and unless you've sat around my table, you won't know the depths of many things alluded to in many of my posts and pictures.  Because of the intimate nature of those those very things.

Unfortunately, I still struggle.  I find myself battling just being in the moment rather than posting about the moment.  Wanting to snap a picture and post it on Instagram rather than soak in the dinner with good friends gathered leaves me distracted.  In the end, I want to be fully here, rather than there -checking to seeing how many people like what I've shared - with those near and dear to my heart. Real, personal relationship rather than one filled with wires and screens.

What if, instead of trying to share all the intimate, personal details and make life look amazingly glossy, we simply did life with a handful of real lives.  People who are invested in us and walk with us and have seen us cry (not just read about it)?  People that bring you lunch just a few short hours after you arrived home from the hospital after your son fell from a tree?  Those that have seen you break down as you deal with sin and drop everything to bring you sweet tea?  A woman who knows you well from your foolish days and sits and stops conversation to simply pray and ask the Lord to restore?  A man, exhausted and weary from stressful days at work, that supports you and loves you and when you arrive home late from orientation, he cooks for you since you didn't have a chance to eat?  Kids that want nothing more than their mommy to stop doing and just sit so they can continue The Voyage of the Dawn Treader?  Family that comes and gathers round the table, sipping glasses of wine, and just talking about nothing in particular, just talking and enjoying the intimacy of being family?

This is life.  Lived out in breaths and actions and impatience and desire and awe and frustration and so many other things that could never be captured in an image or blog.  But I want to live it well, not have other people like it well.

I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

John 10:10