Snapshots of Who I Am

The rainy day I spent at the lakeside coffee shop in Austin was one of my calmer days of reflection on what I was going through. Not every day was spent in quiet reflection. Oh, I was reflecting everyday, that's for sure, but I wasn't always quiet about it.

My mind was in turmoil most of the time. And my words and behavior (especially towards Andy) followed the tide of my emotions. It was almost unbearable.

I was confused. I was confused about what was going on, why people weren't responding to me the way that I expected they would or thought that they should. I was confused about what I should or should not be doing.

I was scared. I was far away from everything that had once comforted me. I left my job and my home and my family and friends to follow Andy to Texas. The work that I did and the people that I loved who made me feel valued and secure were very far away. And my situation felt weird. I was in completely unknown territory. But what was far more frightening was that I was looking for Jesus to show up in the situation I was in. I was a believer. The people I was in conflict with were believers. But I couldn't see Jesus. And nothing is more frightening than not being able to find Him.

I was angry. Early on in my marriage, anger was both my weapon and my defense. If it comes down to fight, flight or freeze, I'm totally a fight kind of a girl. When all of this started happening, I couldn't separate the fear from the anger. I didn't know that it was fear that was causing a lot of my anger. I'll write more about this later.

And I was exhausted. Sin is exhausting. And that's what I was in. I was in a cauldron of sin. And I was worn out from it.

Andy and I went to church one Sunday morning and the pastor preached a message about finding comfort and security in God, no matter your circumstances. He used an illustration that resonated with me. He had a little girl- I think she was about three years old at the time- and he and his wife were expecting their second child. But they were noticing a pattern that their little girl would start "acting out" when they got caught up in preparations for the new baby. Sensing what was going on, the pastor took his little girl in his lap and got out her baby book. Together, they went through the pictures one by one. "This is you when you were inside of mommy's belly." "This is you when we brought you home for the first time." A father, reassuring his daughter, that, even though things are changing, and will change further still, she is known, she is loved, she is secure.

That's what I wanted. What I still want. I want my Father to sit me down and show me, "This is who you are. And no matter what, no matter who you meet or how they treat you, no matter what you do or do not do, no matter how much you sin, how big you fail or how much you disappoint others, you are known, you are loved, you are secure."

So that's what I'm going to write. I'm going to write my identity in Christ. I'm going to listen to His words and ask for His help to believe the snapshots of who I am.