A Conflict of Sorts

She’s like a sister to me.  Her brother is like a brother to me.  Her family is like family to me.  When we have conflict it’s like a huge space in my life that can’t be filled.  When we were younger we had full out arguments.  Now, seasoned with some maturity, we have conflict.  It’s this season bringing forth the conflict.  Rubbing and scraping against us, leaving no article of skin untouched.  It’s life bringing forth the conflict.  Unmet desires. False expectations.  Dreams placed on shelves too high to reach and grab hold of again.  Now when the conflict comes, we intentionally try to reason with one another, reach some kind of middle ground.  The conversations are careful, the glances are laced with uncertainty and more is said in what is unsaid.

We need each other.

But in truth I don’t want to need anyone.  The blood streaming through my veins of independent, strong, black women flows thick and heavy, daring me to stop the flow and be dependent.  The western world in which I live shouts at me to compete, contest and conquer, whether it’s money, assets or people.  Yet Christ’s blood now forms as a blanket over my ancestor’s and He is all about relationship.  His whispers of humility surround my heart, wooing me to reconciliation.  Within myself.  With her, my sister.

Time.  I need time.  And that is the one thing God is giving me in this season.  The one thing I can bank on is that He will use time with me, like He always has.  And with her.  He will use time with her. And even though it’s that very thing that seems to be opposing us, what is time in comparison to eternity?  What is this conflict in the grand scheme of things?  Simply time wasted.  Simply space wasted.