I absolutely believe this.
Haven't you seen so many people looking into someone else's yard and wishing for their life/home/job/children/personality? Maybe they have even taken it to the next level and tried to live their life by pretending to be that person by replicating their success or mannerisms all the while hoping for the same outcome.
This won't work, I think we all know this. It is so tempting to try.
I do this, maybe you do too. I reach for something new, I dream of some possibilities, my heart soars with the idea that I could do something that matters and actually makes a difference.
Then I look at myself. I take a little trip into my resource room which is made up of my skills, talents, personality, appearance, mannerisms, insecurities, my community or support network, the list goes on...
and this is where it breaks down.
When I visit this room it is like walking into a house of mirrors. Every image gets distorted and I am discouraged before I even start.
Disqualification is waiting to shut down every beautiful thing.
It is hard, maybe impossible to fight through it. Inspirational words sound so hollow. Be the best you can be and the like.
I want to build but I look at my tool belt and I only see maybe one hammer and a handful of broken nails.
We might as well admit that there is truth to this sense of inadequacy. I will never be 25 again. I can't fix that I wish I had more time in my life, or that I wish I could have started doing things sooner. Never mind wishing that I had the metabolism to fight my weight gain or some magic cream that could fight the wrinkles that are forming on my brow. Let's not even talk about what is happening to my neck. It actually moves when I shake my head, my chin is disappearing into one long neck. I saw it in my mom and the other women in my family but somehow I was so sure I would escape a turkey neck heritage. Can God use a woman with a turkey neck? Maybe I will look online and try to find any famous person with the same kind of neck...
Donald Trump.
This is not looking good for me.
When I look at the professional beauties on TV there is no way to match up. I neither have the time, the resources or frankly the inclination to know how to keep up with fashion at that level, do "contour makeup" that completely changes the way I actually look, or spend most of my day building my physique.
How could I? Even if I tried, I have four dirty handed little ones that would betray all my best efforts and I would be exposed by the peanut butter on my clothes right at their height. As I type one of my boys is wiping his strawberry covered face on my sleeve. (I kid you not, I have one boy on my shoulders and one trying to climb on my lap, I can't even see the screen. My life is so glamorous).In every circle, it is so easy to think that unless you are built a certain way you cannot possibly make a difference or speak to a larger audience.
Maybe it is just me?
I don't think it is just me.
Oh, God please don't let it just be me. You are there with me right? Do you fight the voices? Those voices seem to get louder when I pull my pants on. Oh man, I hate my pants somedays. They betray me, they make me face up to my love for late night snacking. Dumb pants.
Here is the point. It actually doesn't matter.
None of it matters. I think that sure, it is good to look cute (you know you want to, so do I), but I could never have enough of the right clothes, make up, hair, toned arms, if that is all that was required to have a message life and hope. Chasing a perfect appearance and prestige is all a house of cards.
Every person knows substance when they see it.
What I have learned, what you have learned, what you have endured, matters. It makes a difference. Beauty radiates through laugh-lined eyes and soft, wrinkled hands.
Let's redefine the beauty. Let's celebrate it in each other. Let's not just give the thought lip service. The message here is everywhere these days, from soap commercials to the anti- photoshopping campaigns, yet I still feel the pressure to keep up as though I might be able to out-run the aging process.
How about this instead? Let's celebrate the quiet, thoughtful women as much as we celebrate the loud and gregarious. Let's give room for each one to be valued and their treasure mined out of the depth of the pain and response to God. Let's see each other, and fight the urge to compete or fix.
I will make you a deal:
I will be me, if you will be you.
You be you.
You be you in all your radiance and I will celebrate you, cry with you, laugh with you, champion your causes and believe for your dreams.
You are not a combination of all the people you admire. You are distinct. You are an unrepeatable soul, and we need you. I need you.
You did not weave together your own personality by determination and persistence. You were woven and shaped long before you took your first breath and if I know anything I know this: You have got this.
You have what it takes. Don't try to be me and I won't try to be you. Let's enjoy the differences and invite others into our safe community where women are celebrated and cherished.
This is the best version of us isn't it?
Women who celebrate other women and champion causes for others are my absolute favourite.
It is what we were made to do.
Let's get to it.
Let's be women our daughters and their friends can look up to and want to become. Let's learn from each other and be there through thick and thin.
Who knows if I am the only one who needs to hear it, but it bears repeating:
You've got this!
