Stevie Wonder Identity Crisis

      I was recently faced with the challenge to find a picture of myself before motherhood and then was asked to consider who this girl was.  What were hopes and dreams, her aspirations?  I laughed looking at a picture of this thin, young girl all dressed up, ready for her senior homecoming.  And while that opinionated girl came off as fairly confident and a girl who “had her head on straight”, she only had vague notions of the future; she had no idea who she was or what she wanted from life.

Good ol' church camp...and slightly cropped top...
2004 really did rock, didn't it?

      So here I sit 10 years later still unsure of who this girl is.  I’ll be honest right now in telling you the “Christian” response to this question of my identity really held little weight in my life.  You know, the youth group answer that says, “your identity is found in Christ”.  For as long as I’ve been a Christian, nearly my entire life, I can honestly say I had no grasp on what that truly meant.  Maybe I missed that week in Sunday school or maybe I was too busy attempting to flirt with some cute boy at church camp that day, but somehow I missed it.

So here I sit 10 years later and am once again struggling with who I am…

For as long as I can remember, I have lived up to the label given me.  For instance, my parents said I was a “good girl”, so I strived to be a good girl.  My teacher said I was a “gifted student”, so I did my best to perfect my academics.  For me, these labels were fantastic motivators to always do better and strive to do my best, but they also became what I used to define who I am.  And let me tell you something…I’m exhausted, ya’ll!  (I added the southern accent for emphasis.) 

In the last 10 years, my labels have been changed so frequently and rapidly that I can hardly figure out what standard I’m living by anymore. I’ve gone from cheerleader to high school graduate, undecided to education major, honor student to college graduate, student to teacher…single to girlfriend, engaged to married, wife to mommy of one, no two, whoops…three kids, mom to stay at home mom, Nebraskan to…well, let’s not get carried away here. J  You see what I mean though?  I’m tired.  I can’t keep up…

The problem with my current evaluation system, my current standard of knowing who I am is that my standard is constantly changing.  It’s hard to meet an expectation that’s there one day and gone the next.  What’s more is that I often can’t live up to the standards that I’ve set for myself.  My identity in being a loving wife is abdicated when I snap at my husband for being late or not immediately doing what I’ve asked him to do.  My role as caring mother is terminated when I impatiently respond to a tantrum or am too tired to read that book for the 82^nd time this week.  I fail to live up to my own expectations and then what?

Well then I’m left sitting here contemplating who I really am.  I failed to live up to the standard of loving wife, so I guess I’m not a loving wife.  I’ve failed at being caring mom, so I’m not a caring mom.  I’ve failed to be a loyal friend, talented homemaker, and so on and so on. I’m forced again to face the reality…I don’t know who I am.  So, I read a book or blog or compare myself to the “perfect” woman of the week and resolve to live up to this new set of standards that will surely define me.  It’s an endless cycle…one I’m ready to break.

I had to face the question before me—who am I when all of these things are stripped away?  If all of these things are just pieces and jobs and priorities I’ve held…who am I?

I decided to revisit the old Sunday school standby.  If the Sunday school answer is always Jesus, this time didn’t prove any different.  My identity is found in Christ.  He set the standard I should strive for, the expectations I really need to meet.  Sure, he’s given me the role of wife, mom, friend…but he’s also given me guidelines for those jobs and he also knows these roles will change over time.  Which is why my true identity, who I am at the core of my being cannot be defined by my busyness or my to-do lists or my earthly relationships.  My true identity lies in who he created me to be. 2 Corinthians 1:21 says, “Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ.  He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.”  I am established, anointed, and sealed by God.  This verse resonated in my soul (and also had me singing Stevie Wonder’s song Sign, Sealed, Delivered…).  It gave me assurance and hope that God has put his name on me, his seal, his approval.  Everything he intends for me to be is ultimately found in who Christ is.  And because he has given me his Spirit, I am capable of reaching that standard. 

The good news is that even when I fail, or forget who defines me, my failure doesn’t send me into a tail spin.  I recollect myself and set my eyes back on the one standard that will not change.  Furthermore, the “deposit” part of that verse gives me hope and helps me to remember that this life isn’t it…there is glory yet to come!

I am thankful that my identity is in Christ, the one who stays the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow…and I’m also thankful that I don’t suffer from the bi-monthly identity crisis I faced in high school.  Hallelujah, praise God that I no longer have to decide between a crop top and flare jeans or crop top and wide legged jeans…

Faithful

      I’ve found myself reflecting on God’s faithfulness in my life a lot lately.  Almost one year ago to the day, I received a phone call from my husband that drastically changed my life. 

      I sat sobbing on our used couch in the quiet darkness of our cozy Nebraska home, thankful that our two-month-old daughter and two-year-old son hadn’t put up a fight at bedtime tonight.  I didn’t have the physical or emotional energy to deal with it.  The realization kept washing over me in waves, I was moving to Nowhere, Illinois…closest Target over one hour in any direction.  As I cried I prayed.  I prayed God would give me the resolve and the courage to follow where we felt He was leading—although I was sure He had to be geographically confused since I had explicitly said Illinois was the last place I wanted to move.

      In the weeks to follow, I grieved the loss of the good life (that’s a Nebraska reference for my Illinois friends), and tried to face the reality that I would soon be an Illinoisan..Illini…does anyone really know what to call people around here?

      In those weeks, I found myself doing a lot of crying and a lot of praying.  As I fought to keep life as normal as possible for a two-year-old whose world had already been turned upside down by the arrival of the dark-haired attention-stealer we called “Sissy”, I continued to pray.  I prayed as I painted.  I prayed as I ripped up carpets, cleaned, organized, and prepared to sell our house…during a Nebraska winter at Christmas time.  I prayed as I was an exhausted mom to a newborn and a new potty trainer.  I prayed in the absence of my husband, my teammate.  I prayed as we said painful goodbyes to our church family and the place where we’d grown as a family.  I prayed as I said goodbye to my parents.  I prayed as I kissed my sweet niece and held back tears as I clung to my sister and brother.  I prayed as we pulled out of our driveway for the final time and I prayed as we made the long journey to our new home.  I prayed as we unpacked and as we adjusted to our new life.  I prayed.

      This past year hasn’t always been pretty…and it certainly hasn’t brought all of my best qualities to the surface.  In fact, a lot of the last year has been challenging and difficult, but God doesn’t care that I didn’t do it perfectly or that the odds often seem stacked against us.  He was and is faithful.  He walked before us, patiently, lovingly, doing the impossible and working for our good time and time again.

      Our home was on the market just over one week and we had a buyer!  I made it through the newborn stage of my daughter’s life with at least some of my sanity still intact.  Ronan (and I) survived potty training and I’m happy to report both seem to be thriving. What was a difficult year for our marriage, God provided strengthening and unity. God extended our “family” by giving us another amazing church to serve and grow with. We have been blessed tremendously by our new community and home.  The friendships we have formed are among our most treasured…and our friends have even let us keep our Nebraska title by referring to us as their “adopted Nebraska family”…take that Illinoisan/Illini! 

      One year ago I couldn’t have imagined (even in my wildest dreams) that I would ever be able to say that I am truly grateful that God stretched and grew us the way He has over the past year. And while I still don’t understand camouflage, Cardinal baseball, or the lack of football in our new home, I truly am grateful that God brought us here…even if it was some sort of clerical error.  Without this adventure, we would have missed out on so many blessings, but most importantly, without it we would not have been able to witness God’s faithfulness and presence in our daily lives.

Lord, I praise you for your faithfulness.  Thank you for this great adventure.  Thank you for Your plan in our lives.  When challenges arise and uncertainty is at hand, remind me that You are faithful.  

      

Scare Tactics and Angry Mom Whispers

      You know that feeling you get  when you wonder if everything you’re doing as a parent is going to completely scar your children for life?  I’ve had that feeling a lot lately.  Maybe it’s because I have a baby who is still teething and is a little fussier than usual, maybe it’s because I’m learning that three is going to be worse than terrible two’s, or maybe the love that was showered on me last Sunday has made me reevaluate my skills as a mother.  Whatever the reason, I’m fairly certain my kids are going to end up a train wreck by 25. 

      A few weeks ago, I made May Day baskets to deliver to our neighbors.  I pulled the kids in the wagon in 90 degree heat…before naptime.  My first mistake was making May Day baskets to deliver to our neighbors.  My next mistake was pulling a wagon in 90 degree heat.  My biggest mistake was underestimating the grave importance of naptime in our home.  After explaining how to hang the basket and run quickly back to the wagon 852 times, snatching the paper baskets from my 8 month old daughter’s mouth 253 times, and re-explaining how to hang the basket and run quickly back to the wagon another 378 times, we finally arrived to deliver our first basket. This was the moment, that glorious moment when I would pass down one of my childhood memories to my children.

Don't let their cute, little faces fool you...
they know how to make your hair turn gray!

He was so sweet walking up to the door… the wrong door. He was going to the wrong door!  After being redirected and making it to the right door, he couldn’t reach the door handle or the doorbell.  So, 25 pound baby in tow, I helped him hang the basket and ran quickly back to the wagon…with Ronan stopping behind to look at the yard decorations, play in the bird bath, and pick up a new rock for his collection.   

      Now this is the moment I scar my kids for life…I whispered angrily to him.  (You know what I’m talking about don’t you?  The “angry mom whisper”.  It doesn’t really mask the volume all that well, but adds extra emphasis and a terrible hissing sound that is supposed to sound more threatening than it really is. We’re really big into scare tactics around here.) So, I’m whispering angrily at Ronan telling him once again how we’re supposed to run from the house so we don’t get caught and when we stop to play in their bird bath they could catch us.  And letting him know how he’s ruining the game if he doesn’t play right…and blah, blah, blah. I really like to drive home my point on these mom tirades, so I keep saying the same thing over and over in different ways because we all know a three-year-old has an excellent attention span and lecturing is the most effective way to change their behavior…repeat this cycle four more times with various lawn ornaments and the occasional warning about how walking in people’s grass is rude and that about sums up our May Day experience.

      By the time we got home, I swore I would never observe another May Day as long as I was alive, to which Ronan replied, “We still have another basket to deliver…” 

      Just this morning I had another Anti-Fun-Mommy moment.  I felt so guilty after it happened.  It ended with everyone in tears and I knew I needed to refocus and collect myself before I could go on with the day.  I had a heart-to-heart with God and was reminded that I needed to refuel for the day.  So I opened my bible and this is what I read,

“He tends his flock like a shepherd:
    He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
 he gently leads those that have young.”

-Isaiah 40:11

      I don’t know about you, but I find this verse so comforting.  He’s leading me, not in a judgmental way, humiliating me when I fail to live up to the measure of a perfect mom, but gently.  God understands my desire to be a great mom, he understands my shortcomings and tendency to suck the fun out of should-be great moments, and it seems He also understands that having kids is tough…so He gently leads...Presumably not through the grass or with a loud mom whisper, but gently leading me so that I may lead them.

Lord, thank you for your understanding.  Thank you for your gentleness.  And thank you for leading me in these tough moments with little ones. 

Disappointment Stinks

      I have been looking forward to spring since December 26^th. As soon as Christmas is over, winter loses all the enchantment and wonder it briefly held and becomes an endless cycle of dreary skies and slushy sidewalks. Since we moved to our home in January, we were anticipating spring even more in order to have the chance to explore our new surroundings.  Fortunately for us, we moved to a location with a slightly milder climate and an earlier spring (at least compared to our Nebraska friends and family). 

      As our yard began to transform this year, I became even more excited at the possibility that both of the trees in our front yard would be flowering trees.  Each day, I would take the kids outside and we would inspect the buds, waiting patiently for the flowers to take their place. Soon, the day came.  The flowers began to open and the trees became my sign that spring had truly sprung. 

      A week later, while playing outside with the kids on a breezy afternoon, I couldn’t get over the noxious smell that seemed to be wafting our direction.  I courageously opened the trash cans thinking Jarod had inadvertently placed the fish remains from his last fishing escapade in one of the barrels.  Nothing.  I continued to sniff around our yard determined to find the source of this unflattering aroma, and you guessed it…my wonderfully beautiful, greatly anticipated symbol of spring was the culprit of the foul odor. (Not only that, but there were so many bees and flies swarming the tree that we could hear the buzzing noise a good 20 feet away!)

      I don’t know about you, but this tree business wasn’t my first disappointment in life and it certainly was not the most heartbreaking. I’ve been passed over for dates to school dances, I haven’t always made every team I’ve tried out for, and my dream to change the world through the title of Miss America never panned out, either.

      About a year and a half ago, Jarod and I sat in an exam room anxiously waiting to hear from a doctor.  In just a few short words, our hopes for our unborn baby were replaced with devastating disappointment and heartbreak.  Our baby had no heartbeat. 

      We were just a day and a half from announcing our pregnancy to our friends, to make it “facebook official” as the kids say.  In the weeks to come, we smiled and gave words of congratulations as four of our friends announced their pregnancies. 

      I’d be lying if I said I don’t ever wonder or question God about the loss of our baby.   I want some answer that justifies it all. The truth is I probably won’t get it because disappointment and heartbreak are part of our lives.  Sometimes it is felt in big ways; sometimes you smell it in a disappointing tree.  In any case, I have chosen to believe what is written in Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

      I believe that even in the midst of disappointment and heartbreak, God is working.  Not only is he working, but he is working for my good.  Being passed up for a school dance made being chosen by my husband even sweeter.  Not making a team made me work harder, practice longer, and persevere. The loss of our sweet child made me put my faith into action, to intentionally choose to follow what I said I believed even when it was hard. 

      I’m still not sure what purpose that smelly old tree will serve, except to remind me that disappointments and heartbreak don’t have to be a waste.  Sometimes they really stink, but God is working…in all things. 

Uncle Peter

      As I’ve been preparing for Easter, I find myself again deeply moved, overwhelmed with gratitude, and humbled by the sacrifice Jesus gave out of love for me (and you).  However, as I read through the Bible’s account of Jesus’s last days on Earth, another person captivated my heart this week.

      You remember Peter, right?  (The guy who jumped out of the safety of his boat, walked on water, and nearly drowned in a span of just a few minutes.) Scholars seem to have one common theme in describing Peter, impetuous. A less pretentious way to describe Peter’s style would be hotheaded, hastily rushing to action, emotionally charged. And there we have it, that strange connection I felt to Peter! Perhaps he is somewhere in my family tree.  Uncle Peter?  While it may be hard to believe, I tend to run a little on the impetuous side myself.  (GASP!—for dramatic effect and see last week’s post if you’re confused!) 

      I discovered something else about the connection between Peter and myself while reading through Luke’s account of Jesus’s final days.  If you remember correctly, Jesus and His disciples had gathered in the upper room of an anonymous man’s home to take part in the Passover.  During their fellowship, Jesus breaks bread and has wine with his disciples.  He communicates that these are their final moments together, there just isn’t much time left.

As their meal is winding down, Jesus turns to Peter and says, “Simon, Simon (Peter’s other name), Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat.  But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”

      “But he (Peter) replied, “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death.”

      Jesus answered, “I tell you, Peter, before the rooster crows today, you will deny three times that you know me.” (Luke 22:31-34)

      I think Peter is being sincere here.  When you look at Peter’s highlight reel, his sincerity is evident.  In addition to his sincerity, I can relate to Peter’s fierce loyalty.  I feel bad shopping at a different grocery store for crying out loud!  (Which has proved to make our recent move slightly uncomfortable in that sense.)  I hate the thought of betraying those who count on me and I think Peter does too. I think Peter really believed and hoped he had what it would take to stand by Jesus no matter what.

      As we follow along in the story, we find out that Peter does betray Jesus.  Not once, not twice, but three times. Luke 22:60-62 says, “Peter replied, “Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Just as he was speaking, the rooster crowed.  The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter.  Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.”   

      Oh man, can I relate to Peter!  I’ve been there.  In all my passion, sincerity, and loyalty, I’ve still been the betrayer.  (Hey, sometimes it’s in my passion and sincerity that I betray the ones I’m most loyal to.  Again, see last week’s post.)  Just like Peter, I know how it feels to weep bitterly with regret.  I don’t know if you’ve ever been there, but can’t you just feel the heartbreak Peter is experiencing?  The regret?  The shame?

      Thank God, the story doesn’t end there.  We know the good news of Jesus’s resurrection three days later, but Peter’s story doesn’t end there, either.  You know how I know?  Go back and check out verse 32.  Jesus says, “But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail.  And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”  Did you see that big important word there?  WHEN!!!  Jesus didn’t say, IF you turn back, he said when you turn back. I’m sure Peter didn’t catch this.  Heck, I didn’t catch it until a few days ago! 

I find such great hope in Peter’s story and in Jesus’s encouragement to him.  Jesus knew what was about to happen and yet He wanted to use Peter to strengthen other believers…after he messed up!  If Jesus could still use Peter, He can still use me!

I could end here, but I'm not. I actually found the most moving part of Peter's story at the end of the book of John.

"When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?"

"Yes, Lord," he said, you know that I love you."

Jesus said, "Feed my lambs."

Again Jesus said, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?"

He answered, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you."

Jesus said, "Take care of my sheep."

The third time he said to him, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?"

Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, "Do you love me?" He said, "Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you."

Jesus said, "Feed my sheep.  Very truly I say to you, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."  Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God.  Then he said to him, "Follow me!"

Did you catch what Jesus did there?  Go back and take a look.  He asked Peter not once, not twice, but three times if Peter loved Him. I love how God redeemed that moment of betrayal.  He restored Peter through his own words.  This time, instead of words of betrayal, words of loyalty would define his story.  Peter went on to become one of the most influential people in the early church, strengthening his brothers.

I love Peter.  I love that God could redeem Peter.  I love that God can redeem me and my failures.  As you go through this weekend, I hope you too find hope that because Jesus died for your sins and because of the hope found in His resurrection, you too can be redeemed!

Happy Easter!