Day 5 of Lent {...growing in your practice of what already is...}
When I was in third grade, I painted a picture of a lighthouse. I clearly remember painting a blue sea with waves, the sky, the sun, and a lighthouse, with rays of light coming from it. My teacher entered that painting into a competition of sorts, and it was chosen to represent my county’s whole school system in an exhibit in Nashville.
Then, I never voluntarily painted again. I wanted to, but I didn’t. I didn’t even take art in high school. Again, I wanted to, but at my school in the ‘80’s, art was considered an elective for losers. (Looking back, this makes me really sad. I think things are very different today, thankfully). Because I cared far too much about what everyone else thought about me, I never took a single art class.
Yet all along, Spirit was nurturing that homely little 3rd grader inside me, the one who secretly was so proud that her picture got chosen - the one who secretly wanted to paint so many more.
After that, I tried viola lessons. Fail.
I tried dance lessons when I was 16, so that I could participate in the group dance number for a (of all things!) beauty pageant I was part of. I did great in the beauty pageant, but was an epic fail at dance.
Two years out of high school, I got married. We started our family 9 months and 20 minutes after our ceremony…honeymoon twins. It was then that I began writing in the margins of my time. I remember sending my first manuscript to a magazine.
After months of waiting, my words were returned to me, in that large, brown, self addressed stamped envelope that I had gone to all the extra trouble to load up two babies and drive to the post office to purchase only those supplies, with no money left over to purchase anything else.
Declined. The publishing industry didn’t care about my hard work, or my special trip to the post office, or the fact that I had withheld however many dollars from our grocery budget to buy a large brown envelope and special postage.
But other people in my life were asking me to write! I wrote church announcements, brochures for businesses, curricula for children’s ministry. Everything connected to writing became something that others sought me out for. I was asked to edit book manuscripts for several authors.
The whole time, my original design kept expressing itself in the way I lived my life. We had no money (I can’t begin to make you understand how we had no. money. ) but I still somehow managed to create an atmosphere and a home that I loved and others admired.
Beauty in all its varied forms pulled me like nothing else. I craved beauty. I wanted to create it any way that I could. My fundamentalist upbringing caused me to mis-name my desire for beauty. I called it “discontentment”.
I was so wrong.
But my original design was relentless, because God made me that way, and God never changed His mind about me. Even though I stuffed my creativity in a box, I mis-named it, I ignored it, I starved it, I thought I was too busy to indulge it, it was determined to come out of me, even if the expression was a bit side-ways.
Not one of us can suddenly become who we are not. I wish I could make you understand how hard I tried to be a woman who sang (before I knew better, I inflicted that “ability” so. many. times. on the hundreds of people in my large church). I tried to be a woman who played the autoharp (really!) and who ran a gift basket business. I tried to be a woman who could head up ministries in my then-quite-large church. (Looking back, I was in charge of a group of women in our church’s “Compassion Ministry” that added up to more people than who are in my whole entire church, today!)
I tried to be someone who cooked elaborately healthy meals, and who knew all there was to know about health and healthy food.
I could seriously bore you to tears with the list of all the women I tried to be.
When who I was, was a communicator who was seriously starved for beauty. Nothing more, nothing less.
Out of everything I tried, the writing stuck. The painting stuck, even though I had only expressed it one time, in third grade! And the gift to communicate with an audience stuck. And that is all that stuck - but that is enough, because that pretty much describes the sum total of who I was made to be.
Had I had the wisdom to simply ask trusted wise people, “How do you see me? How am I a blessing to you?”, perhaps I could have cut many years off of my process. Because I believe they would have told me, “When you have something to say, I somehow want to listen. And when you write something, I want to read it. And when I come to your house, I look around and I see beauty - even if there are few resources for it.”
We all bear the fruit of who we are. Apple trees do not strain to bear apples.
Friend. From now to Easter and until the Kingdom comes, I will be right here. Declaring to you the works of the Lord, and admonishing you to grow in your practice of what already is - because there is already something there, that has been there all along.
Serve your family, and then serve others with that very thing.
Day 4 of Lent {...and a clear challenge...}
The Bible tells me, Sheila Atchley, that I have been given “the gift of righteousness”.
So.
(….?…?…?….)
So what? What does that even mean? How does it apply to my life as a woman “in the middle”?
The word “righteous” means this: “The state of one as (s)he ought to be, the condition of acceptable to God.”
Ermagerd. This is huge. This deeply affects both my destiny and my day, come midlife.
I have know many women in years past who, between the age of about 45 to 55, had some version of a mid-life crises. This always involved an effort to re-create themselves. Coupled with the need to invent a false self, there came also an unhealthy sense of entitlement that made them decide to change it up and leave fine jobs, fine churches, fine friendships, and sometimes even a good marriage - finding fault with all, and thinking they had lived long enough to have "earned" the right to do what they (thought they) wanted to do.
It is precisely at those two points - reinvention and entitlement - that the Gospel could have spared them so much pain.
I feel their pain. I miss the women these ones used to be, before storms made their soul unwell. I miss the women they were before each of them essentially did away with that person because she didn’t measure up in some way. I miss the women they were before they decided that others close to them didn’t measure up to their standard, either. And that’s not judgement. It’s just fact.
I do have the gift of hindsight in this. I can look back over decades and see that it is so. This fact doesn’t nullify the grace of God. Rather, it makes grace all the more urgent. We…me…they…everyone who their actions affected…must set sentiment and nostalgia aside and deal with facts. Life goes on, and the gravity of our choices only serve to magnify the need for full redemption.
Who they all were was lovely and who they were becoming could have been even more amazing, had they had the courage to become more of who they already were, but wiser….and not try to become someone they wish they were. Instead of becoming more fully themselves, they began to become more like some woman on some blog, or a wellness expert they met in a Norwex meeting (not cracking on Norwex), or someone with a podcast, or someone on Ista.
I seriously hate the crap out of social media for this. (And no, the irony of saying this on social media is not lost on me, not one bit.)
It has never failed to grieve me when I see yet another dear one either silently implode....or become a caricature of herself, in an attempt at a midlife reinvention.
Healthy self development is great. Trying new and different things is wonderful...but those things are wonderful all the time. Developing our true gifts, having new experiences and attempting new things should be a way of life at every age, in every season. Self help…sudden new this, that, and another thing…should never be what we resort to, in order to heal a soul that has become unwell.
Because of Jesus, (if you are a follower of His), you already are who you ought to be, in a condition of being fully delighted in and accepted by God. This is not based on your talents, abilities, zip code, the car you drive, whether you are single and loving it, single and hating it, it is not based on who you are married to, what he does for a living, what you do for a living, your looks, your weight, your diet, your exercise, whether your womb is fertile or infertile, whether your kids are all high achievers, or your bank account. Your righteousness - your condition of being beautifully and exactly as you ought to be - is yours as a gift. Christ died to give it to you.
This eliminates the need to resort to change for the sake of change. Who you were made to be will do quite nicely. In fact, God never forgets about, or relents on, your original design.
(So help me, if you don’t go back and read that last sentence one more time, I might show up at your house to talk about it.)
Who a woman is, and what God requires of her, in terms of her gifts and the call of God on her life, and the process He has designed to bring that forth, is something God never repents of. (Please be thinking of the female counterpart to Jonah, and don’t be that girl! Don’t be “Jo-annah” who runs from her original design and her process! You’ll know if you are her, if you find yourself in a dark “belly-of-the-whale” kind of a place.)
God never takes it back....He never retracts who He wired you to be. No woman, I don't care who she is, can re-make herself. Yet so many women, at precisely the point of middle age, suddenly want to trade in who they were made to be, in order to become who they were not made to be. (Men, too...again, exhibit “Jonah”.)
Middle age IS a time of becoming...becoming more, and more wisely artistic, if you are artistic. Becoming more, and more wisely a singer, if a song is what everyone keeps asking of you. Becoming more and more wisely a writer, if your words are already setting hearts on fire. Becoming more, and more wisely a sculptor, if you’ve been carving on wood and chiseling stone in ways that bless people. Becoming more, and more wisely passionate, if you always have believed strongly. Becoming more, and more beautifully, skillfully, and wisely a teacher of children, if you've taught children off and on all your life. Becoming more and more wisely an instructor of adults, if that has always been your thing. Becoming more, and more wisely a leader, if others have tended to follow you. More and more wisely merciful, if mercy is your gift. More and more wisely linear and logical and organized, if that (oh glory be, will you please be my friend??) describes you.
Not a new version of you....a more, and more beautiful, and more wise you. More and better and wiser and sweeter and more compassionate.
I challenge you to spend 40 days (Lent is the 40 day season before Easter) leaning into accepting your design, and loving who you actually are, and what is actually yours, beneath all the trappings of life.
For you to take 40 days to sit still, and allow this becoming to emerge....however slowly...would take the kind of discipline that a Lenten season could facilitate and structure and encourage.
Warning: You can ignore me. I’m not the boss of you. But you need to know that it is far easier to succumb to discontentment and get the implants, or the cool car, or the McMansion, or the flock of guineas and Nubian goats...or leave your husband, your career, your church, yourself...hell - I mean heck - just leave it all behind. Anything to relieve the feeling of panic or anger, anything to avoid the sameness of boredom, anything to keep from having to humble yourself and adjust.
Anything but face the sadness of a hope long deferred.
BUT. But I believe for better than that, for you!
In the words of the great Apostle:
“Even though we speak like this, dear friends, we are convinced of better things in your case—the things that have to do with salvation.”
Be patient, beautiful middle age (or any age) friend. You are as you ought to be, as sheer, lovely gift. My prayer is that you never find yourself wishing you could exchange your beautiful gifts for someone elses.
Parting words of wisdom: Never make a rash decision. And never leave anything offended....not a friendship or a church or even a party. Find the courage to take joy, and then cultivate creative continuity.
Find the courage to hold your holy ground! You are still becoming!
You are already as you ought to be, and you will yet become more of the woman you were originally designed to be.