Monday, April 20, 2015

The Truth Is...

Sometimes feeling lost is terrifying.

Sometimes feeling lost is exactly were you might need to be. Because when you feel lost, it means you can be found.

I won't try to admit that I do not feel lost some days. Lost in the daily demands of life, lost in the worry, the what-ifs, the can-I-do-this, the I-don't-know-what-to-do, the my-fears-and-insecurities-might-swallow-me.

I'm insecure about my weight because I've long thought that my value--the things I have to offer to the world--are wrapped up in my weight. That's not hard to understand; lots of us get caught up in assuming that we are how we look. The hard part is figuring out where to go when you finally start to realize that weight, beauty and everything else are only what you make them to be. And they don't define. Even though I keep letting them.

So my husband said that Friday's post might have been "a little bit sad", and after reading and rereading approximately 157 times, I can see where, yes, it may have come across as a little bit sad. I'd feel sad for anybody who is caught up in the I-don't-know-who-I-am or the my-insecurities-are-taking-over-my-life. That's why I write. Because you and me, we can relate. And then we can grow. Together.

But if you read between the lines on Friday, I hope you saw a great and wonderful truth, and it's name is Hope. In the name of Jesus, we have hope. We aren't stuck sitting here, wishing for something different.

He's already here.

Extending His hand. We aren't walking this path alone. We never were. And we never will.

Some of us just aren't so confident in what our purpose is. And there is a lot of talk in churchy-type circles about Purpose. As if one's purpose were so easy to identify and pursue.

So we look and watch and question. And sometimes live not for today but for tomorrow, or for yesterday, because today doesn't seem very purposeful at all. In fact, today seems very unpurposeful, and maybe even a little bit boring. And we think to ourselves, The Ones With An Unclear Purpose, we think "See, how does this day have any meaning at all? I am feeling very uncalled." And we revert right back to our old habits, those possibly destructive mindsets that continue to make us doubt what life is all about.

There has been a long-standing debate in my house over this:

When to tell our kids that there is no Santa Claus.

Some of you gasp. Tell your kids there is no Santa and rip their innocence away from them like that?

Yes. There comes a time and an age where kids need to know. And while my husband and I have disagreed over when this time should be, when he came into our room last night and said "I think it's time to tell him that there is no Easter Bunny," I saw my window of opportunity and took it. 

It's time.

We didn't have to tell our daughter. She found out a couple of years ago via the unfortunate gaffe of her mother, a.k.a. Santa, who left an errant tag identifying the contents of the very package she was opening on said package that was supposed to be from Santa. It was the smallest of small tags, but once her blue eyes saw, there was no going back. She looked at her mother's very own (very identifiable) handwriting on the package that said MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM: SANTA!! Then looked at me. Back to package. Me. Everything seemed like it was going in slow motion as we watched the scales fall from her eyes and the realization of what she likely had suspected all along hit her full in the face. 

She's been very supportive of keeping the secret from her younger brother and has not said a peep about who really plays the role of Santa.

But we didn't want the poor kid going to school telling people his new Under Armour shirt was from the Easter Bunny, so we decided to go with the truth. Imagine that. Parents telling the truth.

Anyways.

Me: I need to talk to you for a second.

Him: Okay.

He looked at me expectantly, and I found myself surprisingly mute. I had been so confident that this was the right thing to do, but now that the moment was on me, I found myself--suddenly, and quite surprisingly--questioning. Should he stay innocent for one more year? 

No, my head said. 

So I forged ahead. "So once upon a time..."

He cocked his head and looked at me little funny, maybe because he didn't know where I was going with this, either. Or perhaps he was confused as to why I just trailed off when my story started off with such mystery and intrigue. Either way, we stared at each other for a few minutes before I continued.

Listen, there is no Parent Handbook on How To Deliver Potentially Devastating New To Your Children That May Validate Their Innate Distrust Of You As A Parent, okay?

"So the truth is, there are lots of traditions that go along with holidays and such, and sometimes parents play along with these traditions because it's fun for them, and it's fun for kids. But, honestly, the truth is--"

And he cut me off right there. "I think I know where this is going."

Oh.

"Have people talked about it at school?" I asked. 

"Nope," he said. "I just know."

"Okay, then, well, the truth is--" I began again, but this time he cut me off with "--there is no elf."

Oh! I didn't see that coming. 

"Yeah, I figured that one out last year when he fell."

"Well, yes. You're right. There is no elf. And the truth is..." This time I left the sentence hanging so he could finish it.

"There is no Easter Bunny."

Bingo.

"And the truth is..." I started, and he finished with "there is no Santa".

"And the truth is, who is the Easter Bunny?" I asked. He pointed at me.

"Santa?" More pointing.

"The elf?" 

He had the idea.

And just like that, the snap of a finger, the nod of a head, the truth was out.

The truth is, purpose doesn't have to be or really always need to be loud and open or even the most popular or well-known. Sometimes purpose doesn't have to stand out and be noticed by others and their mamas. Sometimes purpose doesn't have Your Name written in gleaming lights. (Even though sometimes, this is what I want.)

Sometimes purpose is quiet. Modest. Humble. Easily passed by, sometimes overlooked. Because it's gently explaining simple truths of the world--there is no Santa--in preparation for harder ones. Or guiding the ones who are following our quiet, inconspicuous footsteps.

The end of life won't be marked by "She was loved because she was thin and perfect and looked young". It will be marked by "She loved well."

We are confident that God is able to orchestrate everything to work toward something good and beautiful when we love Him and accept His invitation to live according to His plan.
{romans 8:28}


No comments:

Post a Comment