Thoughts on Life: A Year From the Big Three-O

 Yesterday I turned 29. Even typing that number seems strange. 29--one year away from thirty. In many ways I still feel like a kid. I can see myself carrying around that beaded yellow purse I got for a birthday present, or riding in the neighborhood on my purple and green big-wheel. I can still see in myself the timidness of a young girl who has always been afraid to try new things.

In other ways, I feel old, maybe even older than 29. I can see myself going grocery shopping for the family as a young girl with my older sister when my mom has recently been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. I can see myself as a six-year-old pouring a bottle of milk for a little sister as we hurry to get out of the door for church. I can see myself as a young woman on a walk with my mom, as her legs begin buckling beneath her. I try to hold her up, then am forced to leave her while I run home to get my car to take her home.

I can see the surprise and concern on my face as I learn for the first time that my dad had tried to take his life twice.

I can see the joy and hope, mixed with skepticism when he comes back from seven years of depression

I can see myself clinging to this Psalm:

When my father and my mother forsake me,

Then the Lord will take care of me (27:10,NKJV).

Much of my life has been hard, but I've also known rest and peace, laughter and joy. And the Lord has been unwaveringly faithful. He has been my Father always, but I've known him to be especially so in the times when my earthly father was miles away, even while being as close as the distance from the back door to the garage.

The Lord has used these experiences to chisel me, and at times it’s seemed there couldn’t be anything left to cut away, not because I thought I was perfect, but because I felt scraped raw. But there is always more to chisel. Always areas where change and growth are still needed

Part of that growth for me has been through the struggle to find where I "belong." At a time when most girls my age were concerned with boys and the latest fashions, I was planning meals for my family (my mom became legally blind and couldn't look through cook books) or singing to a little sister late into the night when she had an anxiety attack and couldn’t sleep. My experiences deepened me and helped me to learn empathy.

As a young adult I struggled with understanding how the girls who act like b-words, for lack of a better word, always seem to be liked, or at least to get attention.  I was called “sweet,” but it was sarcasm that won the day.  I was quiet and reflective, but it was the loud girls, even the ones who interrupted or talked over others who everyone seemed to want to be friends with. It was the ones who had the "look out for #1" and “I’m not taking crap from nobody” attitude who seemed to garner respect. 

There have been times I felt like I would scream if one more person called me “sweet.” Sweet people aren’t cool! Sweet people are seen as door mats! Sweet people aren’t “fun!” This of course isn't true, but was what I would think nonetheless. At times I’ve been tempted to compromise who I am in order to fit in, to be liked, but that’s never sat well with me. I never set out to be “sweet," but I am beginning to accept that it's OK to be seen this way, and people mean it as a good thing. It's my distorted perception of reality that has at times caused me to twist a good thing into something negative.

I had a sort of full-circle experience the other day. A girl at work told me, “I was thinking about you the other day. I’ve missed you.” I was taken aback a bit. And then it hit me. I’ve only ever been myself around her. I’ve taken an interest, perhaps I’ve even been seen as “sweet,” and it was me, not some other version of me that she missed.

The Lord wants to use me, with all of my experiences, all of my scars, all of the ways I’m wired to be me. And it’s the real me who will be able to minister to others where they are, because people want and need authenticity.

I never thought that I struggled much with the drive to get ahead. After all,I've always lived a fairly simple life and I’ve never been very competitive. But now I see that my desire to be liked, my envy of others who seemed to get all the attention when I was unnoticed while “doing the right thing” was not only on par with the attitude of wanting to get ahead, but was steeped in pride and judgment. Some people are more sarcastic than others, and this isn’t always wrong. Some people will naturally be the life of the party. I am neither inferior nor superior for not being these things. A lot of sin can hide behind a quiet personality. And every “sweet” person still struggles with his or her own set of demons and ugly thoughts. 

Jesus said, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Does it really matter if others see me, so long as I can see God? And the other side of the coin is that, if I am the person He wants me to be-- *patient, kind, not envious or boastful, not arrogant or rude, not insisting on my own way, not irritable or resentful--then the people who matter will notice. I don't mean the people in high places; I mean the people who are broken and hurting and need a friend. If I am the kind of person who will draw such people, then I think I may be on the right track, for this will demonstrate that they must be drawn Jesus in me. Whether you're the life of the party, or more of a wallflower like me, you can be done with the terrible burden to be liked by all, and instead be noticed and trusted by those who matter. Each with our unique scars and stories, struggles and strengths--we all can become havens for the hurting. We all can love.

A year from thirty and I’m just now learning it’s good to simply be myself, surrendered in the hands of a good Father, who still wants to make me more like Jesus. 

Better late than never, right? =)

* from 1 Corinthians 13:4-5