I haven't blogged in a while because...1) I'm lazy and 2)I've been dealing with God on some things that I needed some long evaluation and thought.
I've known Him almost my entire life...more than 20 years now. By now you would think I'd had Him figured out. Everyday, He tells me how much He loves me and everyday I'm baffled by this. Everyday, He reveals a bigger piece of Himself and I grow to know Him a little deeper. His pursuit of me draws me near and makes me want to run at the same time. The more I find of Him, the more I lose myself.
I've felt God calling me to do something over the last year...something I've had no interest in doing. I've kicked, and screamed and fought for six months to show Him it's really not what He wants me to do...but softly, he reminds me of what He did for me. I've been bought with a price, the price of my savior's blood.
I was born in 1982 to two 17 year old kids. Two kids who came from broken homes...in some way or another. Two kids who weren't planning on becoming parents. Two kids who didn't know what it meant to be a parent, because in essence, they didn't know what a parent was. Along with my parents, I've endured lots of heartache...poverty, addiction, abuse, mental illness, rejection, and neglect. Life's circumstances and my own choices, have set me up for failure. My life has written the perfect recipe for repeating history and leaving me a bitter, lost, addicted, sad, broken, destitute soul...a soul that buys all the world has to offer to substitute the emptiness I feel; a soul that longs to be known, to be loved, to be valued, respected, and cherished. I was born with the feeling that I was a mistake. No amount of compliments, accolades, or "atta-boys" has changed this. Despite what I was told...what I felt or thought was tattooed on my heart and it felt like listening to a foreign language to hear otherwise...it was meaningless.
One day in 1987, I heard a voice. This voice was a voice that I'd never heard before, but at the same time, it felt familiar. He called me by name. He knew me. He told me he loved me...he wanted me...I belonged to Him. At five years old, he began to whisper these things in my ear. When I was alone in my room, I heard Him and He was beside me. He didn't talk a lot, but when He did...I heard Him. In 1992, He was there again. He comforted me I was scared of what I saw. He told me it would be okay. In the same year, however, I also was taught that you can't trust people. You can't let them see who you really are because they will reject you when they know the truth. This lie haunted me for the next 15 years; that when shown transparency, people run. This threw me into the bondage of perfection. By accident, I adopted the idea that if everything looks great on the outside, it won't be so painful on the inside. This sufficed for a few years, until the first year I was married. It becomes harder to hide who you are when you live with your spouse. If it's a good marriage, thankfully, it becomes "soul-bearing". You are forced to let the other person see who you really are...no make-up, morning breath, sick with a stomach virus...ALL of it. I started to see what love really is. Let's just say, it's not what you see in the movies; the truth is that sometimes...it ain't pretty! The first year of marriage was hard for me, but not for the same reason as many couples...it was hard for ME, because it meant transparency. This began my "plastic surgery", if you will...of the soul.
In high school, I wasn't interested in Jon because he was "safe". He was boring, he was predictable, and he was safe...not exactly what a 17 year old dreams of. But, what I learned from "safe" over the years, doesn't always mean that there's no risk...it just means that the risk won't cost everything. And...it didn't. The risk didn't cost everything...it cost what I was willing to give, and what I was willing to lose. I lost the need to be something that I thought I should be.
Fast forward to the birth of my first child. There was a lot of anxiety leading up to Jackson's birth. I wondered if I'd make a good mother. I wondered if I'd repeat what I'd known as a child. I wondered if he would love me. The ironic thing is that when you become a parent, you get a microscopic glimpse of how God must feel about us. Your love is immediate and your love is unconditional.
Through trials, you grow. Parenthood has been somewhat of a trial for me because it has challenged me. It has shown me my weaknesses and it has forced me to grow through my failures. It's given me a motivation when I wanted to quit. It's shown me consistence.
I'm a work in progress. In no way do I have things all figured out...it's a life-long progress. I'm on a journey. But, what God is teaching me right now is that this journey is one that he's writing.
For years, I've dreamed of having a "perfect story"...you know, always being a "good girl", one big happy family, no major bumps in the road and life resembles the "Father of the Bride" neighborhood. But, the fact is, we live in a fallen world. Life is not a fairy tale. If it were, I probably wouldn't be as dependent on Him. My accomplishments would be on my own merits. I've been running from my past...and my past is not my legacy.
I'm learning that my story, was meant to bring Him glory.
