“Who am I?”
People ask that question concerning themselves, and sometimes they can be completely sure, and others have no clue. I guess I am in a position where I feel like I know who I should be. Yet, I still hear the lingering voices from my past that blare out a noise that I have spent my life warring. Some of these voices were forgotten; how easy it is to not mind when once what was in front of you no longer is. Since my big brother’s moving away to YWAM, I have been forced to shift to a new normal, and discover the logic I have held for certain habits and thought-patterns; godly or not.
I don’t like to be alone. Yes, I know that God is with me, but it is different when there is a physical presence. Sure, I grew up strong in the Lord and I love being able to mentor others to grow in Him, but it was quite a burden when I felt that I had to take care of my parents spiritually. I carry everything, because I don’t like to be a burden. I was told not to bother other people. I’ve learned to not depend on others. And yet, I wish I could be carried. Moreover, I play it tough, so I can carry my own junk. I have a hard time trusting people with myself. I don’t have many girl friends, simply because my interests tend to align with that of boys. Frankly, I didn’t have a close relationship with my mom, but I had a close relationship with my dad, so I learned to depend on men more than women. I guess I could say that I have had a lot of friends, but honestly, I only had one to three friends ever at a time know what was REALLY going through my brain.
Growing up, I felt I was never enough...and these are not just wounds from my mother. The irony is I have already forgiven and healed from those wounds. I saw where she was coming from, and only working out of what she knew. I realized my father carried some wounds, as well. When I saw the depravity of their understanding, I no longer held them accountable for the hurts they caused.
The wounds that I am still carrying, however; the ones that still shape how I see myself in the mirror include that which were words spoken or done by individuals whom I believe in my heart, should have known better. They are mature Christians, and yet, they acted in certain ways that made me become quiet and reserved; pushed in a model which was not formed for me. Note: not all the wounds were carried by the same person, and different wounds brought forth different habits.
To prove that I didn’t have to be a specific type of girl, I made myself more masculine. To exemplify that I had a legitimate thought, I write it down in secrecy instead of sharing it verbally. (How many of my blog posts have actually been shared with other people? How often have they just been published but left to be a public journal, never read, except by the author?) In my wounds I have believed many lies.
I have believed that to be without a kind word must mean I am not loved or cherished. I have believed that to not be invited means I have been forgotten. I have believed that people come to me more what they want and need, rather than seeking my needs. I have believed that I don’t have value. I have believed that my performance and outcome determines my identity. I have believed that to need someone during my hurt means to burden them, and makes me less of a Christian. I have believed that I must not be woman enough, because I don’t inhabit certain skills (such as cooking, cleaning, sewing, etc...homemaker skills!). I have believed that I must not be beautiful, if I have to dress up and wear make-up to gain a man’s attention. I have believed that I could not share my thoughts, because I am too deep for people to understand or comprehend. I have believed that when I disagree, then I must be argumentative. I have believed that I keep my trap shut, because to bring a genuine hurt to someone means that I am holding something against them. I have believed that I am not doing enough, if I am not busy ministering at every moment I can. I have believed hate and forgiveness in the face of injustice can be justified.
And yet, I have wondered, simultaneously…
I have wondered if I am so strong, why can’t anyone else carry me? Is it wrong to ask for a hug or to wish people invited me more? Am I truly forgotten? I have wondered, is it really my thought when there are differences of opinion. Am I always wrong? Should I always stay quiet? Can I say something bold, and yet not fear that family and friends won’t take offense? Is the devil really using me as a tool when I disagree? Am I ministering with compassion or enabling bad habits when I make myself available? Does a dress define a woman? Do certain skills or interests define the measure of a wife? How can one go to one group of people and love them with Christ’s love, but yet, speak so ill of another group? Am I good enough as me?
I realize this seems like the most random of questions, and yet, at one point or time, I have had to question them with someone. Most often, concerning someone who is close to me. Dang. The deepest hurts come from those who are closest. The greatest of all these questions, whether they be the lies or the rebuttals, is why do I care what someone else says? Why am I giving their voice the foundational determinant of who I am and how well I am walking in my calling? They are not the ones who made my mouth, nor my given me my staff of skills by which I walk. Truth is, there is still an effort to prove who I am is still good enough. There is still a longing in my heart that I am found by the ones who I actually care about their opinion; my family.
I want them to be proud of me. And it has been said before, but there are those remembrances of the past that make me question, according to their standard, if I am matching up to par? And I have always hated feeling like I had fallen short. And yet...I know that God loves me. To let that sink in actually can break me. To admit the hurts I have kept within myself turns my temper and releases my tears. There is an inward push to change their minds, and yet, I wonder if I am capable. To leave things undone, relationally, spurs on my anxiousness more than anything.
There have been quite a few battles recently; many which question my effectiveness in my calling, but also as a woman, and as Laura Emily. This is a lot of random questions; many which seem unanswered, except for the daily walking out what I only know by faith. Continuing day by day, and not overnight will the healing and rerouting of old thoughts be transformed to new. Yet, if I continue to allow God to unearth the lies, then perhaps I can face the reasons why I believed them in the first place. If I realize the initial logic, perhaps I can apply God’s logic to my life, and a new trajectory can be formed. It starts with declaring what He has said about me.
Declaration:
Who am I? I am the daughter of the Most High King. I bear His mark, and His wrists bear the mark of my salvation. I am gracious and covered in His mercy. The outcome of my day does not determine my worth or identity. I fight in the power of His strength, rather than in the power of my own might. I am loved and cherished. I am fierce. His boldness seeps into my character - I am thoughtful and considerate. I am remembered by the One who made me, and His arms never tire from carrying me. I am fully known. I was made perfectly; just perfect without any blemish. I have been fashioned specifically for the woman I am meant to be, and not how other women have been called. The role I play is intuitive for the needs that face me immediately, whether it is desired or not, by my audience. I am a giver of Peace in the anxious storms. I am the singer of Goodness when despair is crouching. I am the introducer of Hope to a world filled with darkness. I am a bringer of Joy to a land of sorrows. I am an ambassador of heaven to earth. I am clothed in His riches, rather than confined by the words of my peers. I am not a mistake, but here for a purpose. My mind dives deep, because my Father has no end. There is a desire for Him to fill me more and more. Sometimes I feel lost and confused. I wonder if I am on track or failing in all fronts. But I am led by my God with His hand holding mine. Whoever I am, it can be summed up in this: I am His!
Don’t throw the Word at me; 
