It’s been a while. It’s not that I haven’t been thinking of you, dear Reader; I have been. I’ve thinking about what to share, and how to say it, and how much I miss writing. But time and life have gotten the better of me, and these past few weeks, if I’m being honest, I’ve been struggling, floundering, and failing. Most of the time, I try to post fun things. Uplifting things. Encouraging things. And, I hope in its own way, this post is encouraging and uplifting, because there is something encouraging in knowing other people struggle too, and uplifting in realizing we are not alone.
If you had asked me who I am a few weeks ago, I’d have told you I’m a wife. I’m a doggy mommy. I’m an animal lover. I’m outdoorsy. I’m a big lover of fashion, and especially obsessed with purses, shoes, and all manner of accessories. I’m a fiercely loyal friend. I’m an aunty by blood and an aunty by love. I’m a sister. I’m a daughter. I’m a writer. I’m a lifestyle blogger. But, if you really stop and think about it, none of that is me. That’s what I do and how I relate to people. It isn’t me. “Me” is something more; something different. Or it should be, anyway. But I had started to define and find myself in these places, activities, and people, and honestly, since I married and moved to San Francisco in October, I’ve been a mess, trying to “find myself” again.
You see, in the move, so many of those identities were changed or taken. I’m outdoorsy, but there’s no place for my kayak, or my camping gear. And my Jeep is gone, replaced by a more city-appropriate Mini Cooper, so I don’t have a way to pack my kayak and gear to go somewhere, anyway. I started working, and have so little time to write. I get angry trying to write, because I’m a lifestyle blogger, and my current lifestyle is get up at 5:40 AM, shower, take the dog out, go to work, come home from work, try to squeeze in a work-out and make dinner before G gets home (more often than not, neither happen), go to bed, and start over again the next morning. That’s not a lifestyle worth sharing. It’s barely one worth living. Furthermore, I actually feel guilty when I sit down to write, because I should be cleaning my house, running my errands, making dinner for my husband, working out… Hell, I should be spending some time creatively figuring out how to love my husband like I used to before work, before marriage. But I’m so tired after work, and so lost trying to find “me” again, that I let all that go. Stopped holding up the walls and stood quietly, tiredly, exhaustedly in the center as my world crumbled and the dust engulfed me, and I could barely bring myself to care.
Then, about two weeks ago at our Thursday Night Community Group, we spent some time writing silently. Working through things we were hearing from the Lord. As I’ve shared before, I get a word every year. This year, for the first time, I received two: Transform and Redeem. Following that is a phrase that Christ repeats to me every time I think about my two words: “The Lord has come to seek and to save that which was lost”. I always follow up by asking Him “What was lost?” Last Thursday, His answer to me was “Your Identity”.
It’s so simple, but so devastatingly sad, how easily I let circumstances and relationships and activities define me, when what defines me is my position in Christ. Who I am is Precious. Purchased. Beloved. Beautiful. Redeemed. Worthy. That is who I am. And that doesn’t change as I gain or lose relationships, move cities, or take on new roles in life, like Wife and (someday) Mother. Those things are all part of me, but they are not at the core of me. Who I am is found in something much more permanent. And that is a beautiful thing.