being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus
Too Many Women in my Head
February 25, 2011Posted by on
There are two women in my head.
There’s the Woman-I-Think-I-Want-To-Be and there’s the Woman-I-Think-I-Am.
Sometimes, I feel them warring inside of me, the Woman-I-Think-I-Want-To-Be wagging her finger at me wondering where I am and why I haven’t caught up to her yet. The Woman-I-Think-I-Am sticks out her tongue, shrugs her shoulders, throws her hands up in disgust and storms out of the room (sometimes giving the Woman-I-Think-I-Want-To-Be the finger).
However, the Woman-That-I-Really-Am, she’s stuck somewhere in the middle.
These two women in my head are why I have spurts of energy in which I can conquer 15 loads of laundry in one day, but it never all gets put away. Or why I post several times in one week, and then go a couple without posting. Or why my kids have days where they tell me over and over that I’m the best cook/teacher/mom in the whole world, and others when they go to the opposite part of the house and play instead of wanting to work/play alongside me. Or why I stay up until 2 a.m. every night because it’s the only time I feel a small grip on sanity.
They (the two women in my head) are why I have weeks like this one, when I ask myself, “What the heck happened to the girl I was and when is she going to come back?”
But I know the answer. She’s not coming back. Too much has happened. Too much has changed.
That girl, the one who had aspirations (though looking back on it, I don’t know that they were ever my own), the one who had passion, the one who thought she might could change her small corner of the world, she no longer exists.
That girl, who stood almost eleven years ago on a large field outside of Memphis with thousands of other college students, who cried out to God, “Whatever it is you want, whatever you desire from me, wherever you want me to go, whatever you want me to do, I will Lord. Make me your hands and your feet. I am your vessel. Fill me up. Pour me out. I give you my life.” I wonder what happened to her.
And even as I type this, I find it silly. I find it silly to think that she disappeared. She didn’t. She just grew up. That girl had barely gotten her toes wet in the pool of life. Then when she dove in from the high dive, and the deep end felt too deep and she spent so much time trying to keep her head above water, gasping for air, she forgot that the life preserver is always within reach.
She failed to see that he has indeed answered that prayer cried out from a heart raw with promise.
Woman-That-I-Really-Am, don’t you remember where he’s taken you? Don’t you know why he’s taken you there?
For his glory.
Oh Woman-I-Think-I-Want-To-Be, you’ll never exist. And that is quite, quite alright.
Woman-That-I-Really-Am, you are so forgetful. You may have walked through the valley of the shadow of death. But he HAS taken you to green pastures and beside still waters. He HAS restored your soul. For HIS name’s sake.
His blessing are new every day, his mercies, overabundant.
Then there’s that grace thing. You know, the one that overwhelms you from time to time. You’re always covered by it. Always.
The world’s false illusion of perfection will devour you if you let it.
So take heart, Woman-That-I-Really-Am. Your worth has been measured. The wage, paid.
Remember? On a rugged, blood-stained tree, with a thorn-pierced brow, from three words whispered in utter agony “It is finished.”
He made you perfect.
For His name’s sake.