Several days ago, I posted that I am seeing a counselor and that she wants me to shelf all of man’s opinions around me. Like that is easy. Like I can tackle that. Like on some level I can actually put them in pretty jars and stare at them for the rest of my life. Well, a girl can dream. Because right now, I am dreaming up a lovely shelf with lovely white jars with lovely succulents in them.
Dreaming has never been hard for me. And if I am going to dream I might as well make it look pretty. Agreed?
But this isn’t pretty and I basically am just begging God to show me how to do it. And can I just tell you something? Or maybe can I give you permission into a conversation? If you haven’t begged God for something than you are missing out. BEG HIM. NEED HIM. ASK HIM TO SHOW YOU. BE A LITTLE GIRL AND GRAB ONTO HIS ANKLES, PEER UP AND SAY, “WHAT’S NEXT?”
Because I am, and I feel like these are good first steps.
The thing about me is that I am inconsistent. I change. My mind is wobbly, which then makes my feet take uneven steps, my hands shake and my heart practically go into palpitations. It means I think I might have found my shelf and gathered up some nails, but then I go to nail that shelf into a wall, and I can’t because I am too nervous. It means my shelf with all those opinions will never get hung if it is up to me.
Because, hello, I’m human.
The thing about God is that He never changes. I mean, HE NEVER CHANGES. Not ever. Not over night. Not after a bad meal. Not through puberty. He is not like that bad boyfriend in eighth grade with shaggy blonde hair who got you an ice blue necklace and muted brown cord for your birthday, in which he proceeded to tell you he loved you and then forgot about you the next week.
Yeah, God is not that guy.
But don’t we all make God out to be that guy? Am I the only one who has ever tried to perform for God to simply keep His love? So why? Why do I do this? Is it because my whole life I’ve had to perform to keep the love of the people around me? And although my very bests (husband, mom, dad, sister, brother, extended family) would all say this isn’t the case, that they love me no matter what — it still is the case in some short-circuited place in my brain. And if we’ve wired our brain to believe certain truths or untruths we act on those.
Case in point:
I will eat a gigantic chocolate chip cookie but will refuse a donut because somewhere I told myself that a donut has more calories. Ugh. I want to rewire this for the love of sugar. For everyone, everywhere. Dunkin’ donuts for life.
I am terrified of wearing yoga pants now for fear of internet backlash because opinions. Human opinions. So, even on yoga-pant-feeling kind of days, I still hike jeans up over my legs because twitter + facebook + periscope + instagram + and can we all just be real people with real conversations again?
And finally, pop music. Do you want to know something? I am practically in love with Taylor Swift. I would set her up with my brother in one heartbeat of one minute. Nothing makes me happier than dancing in my car to Shake It Off because she can actually help me shake it off. But in my Baptist world, pop music is frowned upon ever so slightly so I compartmentalize my whole life and after long enough, I forget where all the compartments are.
This makes me tired. And then I am too tired to hang my shelf.
So, here’s where I am at: I am at the place of naming my shelf. It is the shelf of performance, and I am hereby nailing it to the wall. Because I am pretty sure God has got this, and I am pretty sure that I don’t need to out perform Him and I am even more sure that He is going to get the job done without me. And His love definitely isn’t hanging on a muted brown thread declaring an eighth grade love. No.
His constant is going to be the only way this shelf stays put. xo-whitney