I think I have at least five or six blog posts
rolling around in my head. That’s what
happens when I don’t write for over two weeks.
Have mercy, this is either going to be really long or totally incoherent…
Last Sunday (not yesterday… the other last Sunday…), I found myself a little lost. OK, I’m not sure whether or not it’s fair to
use the phrase “a little” if you have crossed state lines that you didn’t
intend to cross, but whatever. GPS isn’t
always awesome. There’s room for some
grace here.
My children were slightly panicked at the thought
that we didn’t know where we were or how we would get to where we were
going. I was not. In that moment, it occurred to me that I should
probably tell them why, and this is it: wherever you are, there is a road to
get you to the place you need to be.
I explained to my kids that even if they were lost
in California and needed to be in Maine, there is a way to get there as long as
you have enough gas in the tank.
Everybody relaxed. I didn’t
bother to tell them we were running short on gas.
Then, this past weekend I did it again. Twice.
If God ever calls me to Chicago, I am going to have to live within
walking distance of everything and everyone I need, because I stink at driving
there. True story.
I spent my Saturday at the #SheLeads conference, and
as you may already know conferences are one of my happy places. This one did not disappoint. It was affirming. I love the connections, both with new friends
(I went alone—not because I forgot that people travel to these things in
groups, but because none of my local friends were available) and with
established friends around the country, texting from the venues at which they
took part. I hear someone even saved a
seat for me in Nampa.
I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but there
was definitely a moment when things turned upside-down for me. Jo Saxton was speaking, and she asked, "Are
you fully living your calling or doing what you think you can get away
with?" Oh… Ouch…
Sometimes I think I’m really living it, but
sometimes, friends, I think this whole #LessFearIn2016 thing is a farce. Look, everyone who knows me also knows that I
will push the envelope… but how far?
Lately, I think the answer to that is, not far enough… I’m learning something about the reasons why,
though, so at least there’s that.
The other day I was thinking about the kinds of
things that have held me back in life.
Today feels like a rather appropriate time to talk about this, because I
spent the morning singing and dancing, dressed in unicorn pajamas. Stay with me.
I did not just fall down a rabbit hole.
I have never particularly liked unicorns. When I was in third grade, my school
participated in a young authors competition.
I thought my story was great… it
probably wasn’t, but I thought it was.
The girl who won wrote a story about unicorns. I thought that was dumb. Thus, there has been little unicorn love in
my life, because… clearly… this is the kind of thing about which it is
reasonable to hold a grudge for three decades.
Then, let’s fast forward a couple of years to my fifth
grade Christmas concert when my teacher (whom I adored) pulled another child
in front of me on the risers, praising her great singing voice and actually
said, “You can stand in front of Lisa!”
Wait. What? Seriously, even if you’re dealing with a
loud, tone-deaf kid, there is no way you make a spectacle of this kind of
thing. I’m not a participation trophy
kind of girl, but we also don’t have to be mean.
And don’t even get me started on my elementary
school art teacher who vocally called me out for my ugly art. Never mind.
I’ve changed my mind. I really
wanted an “Artist of the Week’ ribbon, just once, even if it was a pity prize.
So, just backtrack with me. Here I sit, writing a story about how I
dressed as a unicorn and sang and danced for a living, this morning. I might thrive on doing things that other
people say I can’t.
And yet, it’s as if I can never quite forget the
sting of being a disappointment. That’s
what actually holds me back. Fear of
failure. Fear of not being enough for
other people. Fear of not being enough
for myself. But I can’t keep living like
that, because I have something to offer, and the call is compelling. I can’t run.
I can’t hide. I don’t even want
to.
I woke up, this morning, thinking, “This is day one…” That statement is far more loaded than I am
going to attempt to unpack in one sitting, or maybe ever, but it’s true. I’m not exactly sure where I am. I’m not exactly sure where I’m going. But I know there’s a road to get me there,
and I’m going to find it—unicorn pajama dance parties, and all…
“This I know, that God is for me”
(Psalm 56:9, ESV).
L.