Livin’ the Dream

You know how you can buy a car you never knew existed, and suddenly you notice them everywhere?  That’s how I’ve felt about writing again. I love scenes in movies that enter the main character’s point of view and suddenly that church choir is looking directly at them, pigeoned there in the pews, belting “WRITE THE THIIIIIIINGS!!” instead of Oh Happy Day or something.

In my case, since I’m obviously the main character here, I’m in the checkout line at the grocery store and the cashier definitely says, “Nice day to start a blog!”

Me: “Sorry, what?”

Cashier: “I said nice day for a jog!  Sun’s finally out, am I right?”

Me: “Oh!  Totally. Beautiful day.  It’s fine! Everything is fine.”

Narrator: Everything was not fine.

(I watched Jane the Virgin obsessively for multiple reasons, a big one being her developing her identity as a fiction writer.)

The people we surround ourselves with are who we will reflect, so hopefully we’re all chasing something that freaks us out on some level.  It doesn’t have to impress anyone else…which I wrestle with. I have a hard time separating my ideas of others’ dreams for me vs. my dreams for myself.  I could dissect it, but for now, at least I’ve discerned it. Here’s the biggest revelation of many this summer: I am deserving of my dreams, and on top of that, God’s for me are bigger.  First, however, I had to allow Him to pick up the pieces of a shattered sense of self, and reconstruct my concept of what I have to contribute to the world around me. It started with the role I play in His heart.

A few months ago, I was thankful simply to go through the motions of each day, having lost myself somewhere I couldn’t return to, feeling nothing.  I could hold conversations, but knew something was broken and my mind was doing its survival thing by blocking out and shelving trauma. I had been slowly and systematically brainwashed over several months to question my reality and believe I was a piece of work, so there was a lot of repair that needed to happen.

As all of this was hot and fresh, my godmother sat me down and formally requested that I read a book called Captivating by John & Staci Eldredge.  I’d seen the cover many times, writing it off as a fluffy Christian “Girls are Ladies in Waiting” lecture. (I’M SORRY JOHN & STACI… I blatantly judged your book by its cover.)

Through that book, God mended me in ways I never expected and might previously have resisted had I not been desperate for something to tell me who I really was and why all of me was important.  It made me realize my identity as a woman needed restoration, not “correction” or “managing.” John and Staci talked about the world-changing power of feminine beauty, and how it reflects the heart of God in a way masculine strength simply cannot.  Women were not created to be “helpmeets,” as many in the homeschool community taught us to look so forward to being. (If girls were single, they were “waiting.” I was preparing to become the helpmeet my dream guy was looking for, instead of calling it “living my dang life.”)

There used to be a grating feeling in my gut that I was destined to attend women’s luncheons and exchange flower pots until a young single pastor arrived and gave me my purpose.  (I’m generalizing. Not everyone fit this mold, but highschool me received it this way.) It still irritates me.

Regardless of sexual orientation or life goals, I think women want to know if they are needed and desired while simply being.  We find our own ways to ask, “Am I enough?”

If we didn’t hear that message at crucial times from a parent or similar figure, we’ll seek it elsewhere.  In careers, romantic relationships, etc, we might settle for something a step above or similar to what we knew before, because at least it’s not as bad. Or we tell ourselves it’s the best we’ll get.  Or we feel we need someone.

For various reasons, we often try to convince ourselves that we deserve less than our dreams.  It seems easier in the moment, but at what hidden costs?

On my off days, when I’m not focused on how God sees me, I feel pretty basic and unoriginal.  “One of many” is a phrase that loves to sneak its way in if I don’t fight it. It’s easier to choose the less flashy accessories, the more practical car, the simpler outfit because I can hide from scrutiny.  Better to go unnoticed than not measure up. (God forbid should observers figure out I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.)

Am I brave enough to chase what I want, or scarier yet, let go of something less?

The answer is absolutely yes.  Bravery doesn’t require the absence of fear.  Bravery is a choice of action regardless of fear being present.  (I made brave choices while crying in the corner of a kitchen floor; it didn’t paint a sexy portrait of bravery.)  We are all capable of being obedient, and in my case that’s all God has been asking of me. If we don’t feel capable, there is Grace and we can ask for help!  I may not be all things, but I can be obedient and He is faithful.  My current state of wholeness and freedom is a testimony to that.  I’m thankful for this past year, because my God is quickly turning a dark time completely around into something beautiful.  Quite honestly, knowing the waves of clarity waiting on the other side, I would walk through that valley again.