Before you go thinking I'm a pillar of health and stability, I feel inclined to mention that I also bought Toaster Strudels for breakfast because warm pastries and coffee get me out of bed in the morning. I won't apologize for that.
My brother, his wife and their new baby child are coming to live with us at the end of this month for 4 weeks while he completes his first medical school rotation at the hospital here. So when I wasn't eating Toaster Strudels, I was cleaning out and organizing pantries and closets so they'll think I have my life together. I got all Real Simple magazine in the guest bathroom and put cotton balls and Q-tips in a glass jar and clean towels in a basket. They'll never know two days ago that chemicals were seeping out of a paint can next to the half-used tube of toothpaste that prior guests "could use I guess if you forgot yours."
I've also had ample time to sit and think. I'm starting to enjoy this new freedom I have allowed myself. While the physical freedom from past obligations and duties has been beneficial, the mental and emotional freedom that is starting to make its appearance is also a welcomed guest.
I have tried to pinpoint what has been different about my spirit lately; what has entered my heart and started planting joy lately that wasn't there before. And then I read this excerpt from Lysa TerKeurst's "Uninvited" in a chapter called, "Her Success Does Not Threaten Mine":
"In my better moments, I did the right thing and celebrated with [my friends]. But then there were other moments. Hard moments. Moments when I felt my friends' lives were rushing past me in a flurry of met goals, new opportunities, and affirmations of their callings from God. It seemed the world was literally passing me by. In those moments, I said, 'Good for them.' But on the inside, I kept thinking, 'Ouch...that means less and less opportunity for me.' That raw essence of honest hurting rarely produces pretty thoughts."
That paragraph stopped me in my tracks. Me. She was describing me. She goes on to delve into Covey's "7 Habits of Highly Successful People" and the scarcity mentality and abundance mentality.
Long story short, people (like me) who were living with the scarcity mentality found it very difficult to be genuinely happy for others because they saw the world as one big pie. When people came up and got a slice, it meant less pie for you and everyone else.
Since Covey's book was meant to address the business world, she searched the Bible for evidence of an abundant mentality and found it countless times, especially in the abundance of creation in Genesis 1. It left her feeling this way:
"As I studied these scriptures, I really felt like I was beginning to understand how this relates to my struggle with rejection. If I look at my dreams, desires, and hopes for the future as coming from a place of scarcity and the world's limited supply, it will constantly feed the notion that someone else's success is a threat to mine."
It was after I read this that I realized that part of my newfound peace was this ability (that must have come from God because I sure didn't work on it) to separate my individual disappointments from comparable experiences that others were having.
I was able to truly enjoy being an aunt and consider that as a fun adventure without feeding the irrational insecurity that I would soon be an awkward character in my family without a child.
I was able to accept and celebrate a wonderful work opportunity for Justin, knowing that when I finally click with what I'm supposed to do, he will be overjoyed for me.
My roles within friendships, family, and even marriage have changed over the last few years, but now I'm feeling hopeful about what that can mean, instead of an intense dread.
In fact, things I perceived as rejections suddenly became questionable to me. What if they weren't actually rejections at all? In the book, she says, "There is usually some element of protection wrapped in every rejection." Sometimes we find out when those closed doors were for protective purposes; sometimes we don't. But I'm trying to see the possibility that the things that I think I want might actually hinder what God wants for me.
In fact, things I perceived as rejections suddenly became questionable to me. What if they weren't actually rejections at all? In the book, she says, "There is usually some element of protection wrapped in every rejection." Sometimes we find out when those closed doors were for protective purposes; sometimes we don't. But I'm trying to see the possibility that the things that I think I want might actually hinder what God wants for me.
Because I serve a God of abundance.
He didn't stick a proverbial bucket of fried chicken in the middle of the table and tell us to have at it. Anyone who grew up with teenage brothers knows this is how supper time works. To this day, I still eat lightning fast because of my training early on. You snooze, you lose half the casserole, why did you eat all the casserole, I hate you, I don't care if you had football practice.
I'm not going to lie and pretend like there aren't still difficult days; or that every time someone's life advances or they have a baby, that there isn't sometimes a Facebook poke on my heart.
But I'm slowly learning to use those pokes- not as a painful gesture- but a soft reminder that the God of abundance who blessed this person is the same one who dwells in me. And because of that, their abundance isn't robbing me; it can flow to, through, and from me. And sometimes, what is a bounty for them, might have been a burden for me.
Remember all these things, friends. At least until we get to heaven where I am fairly certain there is a bottomless KFC buffet and pie for everyone. All the pies.
