Recently we moved. Moving is rough on anyone. At the beginning, it reminded me of early on in my recovery. Everything was new, I had no idea where anything was or where I was going. Thankfully, we moved to an area that was a little familiar to me and where I have deep family ties. Still, it was a really exciting day when I picked up a prescription and made it to the post office and then home without the help of GPS. GPS, itself, can be its own struggle.
Part of moving involves packing and inevitably SORTING! I struggle with making decisions, and making that many of them at once makes my brain hurt. Like physically hurt. When you pull a muscle, it feels the same, but in your brain. I still have a few boxes I have been avoiding. The other day, I decided to tackle one. It was marked "Lisa childhood." That always interests me. It's almost like digging through someone else's past. Sure, I have my long term memory (Praise God!) but I feel like that person isn't me. Part of surviving is letting go of who you were to embrace who you are. And sure, that girl is a big part of me today. Like everyone, our view of who we were is sometimes accurate and other times, not so much. This is not profound, but the thing that struck me as I dug through that box was this; looking back I don't see myself as being as plain and ugly as I remember feeling. Oh, how insecure I remembered being. I don't really ever remember feeling pretty. Not even on my wedding day. How sad is that? I felt better about myself than most days, but not like the stories you hear about putting on that dress and feeling beautiful (you should know I was maried two weeks after graduating from college, my last semester I was student teaching. I was tired and still working on my professional portfolio, looking and applying for jobs.) But, thinking back to prom, graduation, same thing. I looked at those pictures and I thought, I wasn't that ugly, certainly not to the degree that I felt it at the time. Sure, I had my days of crooked teeth, permed bangs and poor fashion choices, but I was/am far too hard on myself!
One Sunday in our new home church (which just happens to be the church my dad and his siblings grew up in) a friend of the family from decades ago told me I looked just like my aunt. I immediately knew exactly which aunt he was referring to. I would have been flattered to look like either of my beautiful aunts, but I know I particularly resemble one of them more. I sent her a quick text telling her of the conversation and how I was flattered to remind our friend of her. Her reply is that she was flattered to think she looks like me. It's so funny how our perception of self can be so different.
As long as I am combining what I intended to be several posts; recently, a theme or "nudging" has been on my heart. It is simply this, "share your story." It has come up time after time since moving. This still, small voice started with a dear college friend visiting our new home. Some weeks later, she sent me a text that simply said, "When are you writing your book?" Share your story. It was affirmed in a podcast I listened to recently by Johanna Gaines on the release of her book, "The Stories we Tell." I believe she said something like, we all have a story to tell. The theme repeated last night at a dinner. The speaker was Sydna Masse' and she has a powerful story to tell. While she signed a copy of her book, she asked me, "what is your story?" I gave her the brief version, and her response was, "You should tell your story." My platform is small, but I'm trying. Sometimes, I just feel like that 'ugly' girl in the picture who nobody really sees anyway. Then during our sermon today, our pastor reminded us of God asking Moses to lead his people. Moses felt unequal to the task and was uncertain. God used the staff in his hand. He turned it to a serpent. Moses was also privy to a burning bush and later the parting of the Red Sea, among other miracles. How were these accomplished? God used whatever Moses had or what was right in front of him. Because God uses what we have, exactly what we can give [what He has given us], and uses it for His glory.
While my story is indeed unique, I was recently in SC on vacation with family. My niece heard there were shark teeth to be found on the beach. Because I love "sea treasures", I was happy to look for shark teeth. At one point we were in what was apparently a popular area and there was a beach lined with people on their knees scooping up what the ocean brought in. This thought came to me, "we are all looking for the same thing." We are all looking for shark teeth, sure, but we are all humans and looking for our lives to count. We all want our story to matter. Likewise, we all need a Savior. Some are still looking. They can't or won't see what is right in front of them. Someone has indeed died for their sins, and He wants to be found. His name is Jesus.
What is your story?
