It’s like this and like that and like this and uh*

I recently read Crash the Chatterbox, by Steven Furtick**, about quieting inside (and outside) voices so that you can hear God’s voice. It was a great book and helped me to isolate and silence some pretty destructive voices. And through engaging with my inner voices, I learned another powerful lesson: Whatever purpose we are here to fulfill? We already have everything we need. 

For instance, God gave me an English teacher mother, above average spelling and grammar acumen, a pretty sordid childhood, and a voice with which people can identify because He intended for me to share my story. 

BUT, you knew there was gonna be a but, didn’t you? In the process of sharing my story, here is some chatter I have heard in my head and from well-intentioned friends:

You’re writing a book?

There’s nothing really special about your story.

You’re not that good of a writer.

Who would want to read your story?
Only famous people write memoirs.

What’s it gonna be about?

Who’s gonna buy it?

Your daughter is a better writer. Maybe you should have her write your story. (She IS a way better writer, but she has her own story to tell.)

You’re not good enough. You’re not interesting enough. You’re not smart enough. You’re not important enough. You’re not special enough. You’re not skinny enough. You’re not blonde enough. You’ve never been enough and you never will be enough. Those voices are so mean; good grief!

Except a funny thing happened in the midst of that though. The aforementioned book landed in my lap and told me: 

• You are doing better than you think you are. 
• You matter more than you think you do. 
• It’s less about you than you think it is.  
• God says you are enough. 
• God said He gave you everything you need. 
• God says you can.

It told me that the voices in my head were just that: Voices. I could tell to shut the @#$% up. If someone tells my kids they can’t do something, I say, “That’s their opinion, and their opinion doesn’t matter. God made you, and God says you can.” So what if the people who should have encouraged  or complimented me or believed in me didn’t. God gave me everything I need to do what He intended me to do.

Who cares if other people don’t believe my story is important? I think everyone’s story is important. We can all positively impact someone by sharing our experiences and our heart; isn’t that why we are here? To love God and to love people?

If I share my story, and one person walks away feeling less shame about her own childhood, deciding to make lemonade out of the lemons life handed her, realizing that she already possesses everything she needs to fulfill her highest purpose, then it was worth everything to reach that one person. It was worth every embarrassing story. It was worth every agonizing question I’ve ever asked and will ever answer. It was worth losing every person who will no longer make eye contact with me because they never really saw me anyway.

My sweet friends, what voices do you need to quiet today in order to hear a still small voice that speaks only love?

*Nuthin’ But a G Thang (What up, Dre)

** I think Steven Furtick is an extremely gifted pastor, speaker, writer and teacher and couldn’t care less about the size of his house or how many people got baptized at Elevation on any given Sunday.

Dear Lord, My Baby Boy is a Teenager.

This weekend, my son turned 13. That was bizarro. It means he’s only 3 years younger than Brad was when we started dating. It means that soon girls will think of him the way I thought (and still think) about his dad. That makes me throw up in my mouth.

He’s just a little boy; right? He still crawls in my lap and snuggles with me. He still wants to hang out with us and doesn’t think it’s queer to go on a date with his mom. He’s not embarrassed by the notes I put in his lunch. A couple years ago he told me someone made fun of my note in his lunch, and I said, “Well, I’m sorry his mom doesn’t love him as much as I love you.” But I asked him if he was embarrassed, and I told him it would not hurt my feelings if he didn’t want me to put notes in his lunch. He said, “No, Mom. I like your notes.”

But very soon, he’s not gonna be a little boy anymore. He goes to high school next year. Surely, I can’t put notes in his lunch then. And I wonder if we will still be able to gush over him. He is the only boy in a family of strong female personalities. We love loud and expressively. We hug and kiss and gush.

My husband gets really uncomfortable and embarrassed when the womenfolk in his family gush over him. It generally only happens at events that serve alcohol; nevertheless, it happens. See, we were both pretty invisible in our families, so now when they “see” us, it’s awkward. For a long time, we only saw each other. For a long time, that was comfortable. It’s still comfortable when it’s just us. We see each other, and we are happy in that world.

Once, we lost a group of friends that meant a great deal to me. I cried, and Brad said, “We were fine before, and we will be fine again. All we need are the people in this house.” Our circle has grown to include others, but he’s right: If we just had God and each other, we’d still be just fine.

But someday, my boy is not gonna live in this house. Someday, my boy is not gonna need me. Someday, is his wife going to have to remind him to call me? Is she going to suggest that he should send me a card? Is she going to dislike me? Will she think I’m crazy and possessive? Will she think that his sisters and I are too overbearing and keep him away from us? Will he decide that he just needs the people in his house?

I don’t let myself go down that road too often, but I actually pray a lot about my son’s future wife. I pray that she will love and cherish his tender heart. I pray that she won’t run over him or take advantage of his gentle nature. I pray that she will appreciate and encourage him. I pray that she will want to be part of our family. I actually have a lovely young lady picked out for him at church, but I guess that might be overbearing. Course, if that happened to be God’s will, I would surely rejoice. This is the time where I imagine God shaking his head at me. Lovingly, of course.

In the meantime, I will keep praying and doing my best to cultivate a relationship that will stand the tests the teen years bring. And I will still snuggle my son every opportunity I get. I will ALWAYS cheer the loudest at his games and try to restrain myself from hurting anyone who hurts him. I prayed so much for him during the years I tried to get pregnant, and I didn’t stop when I had him. My prayers just changed from please to thank you.