Linking up with The Gypsy Mama:
“On Fridays over here a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real. Your words. This shared feast.”
Today’s topic: IDENTITY
I struggled when she was born. Not because I didn’t want to be a mother, and certainly not because I didn’t love her. But because everything happened at once. In one 12-month span, I became a wife, was in ministry and then a mom. And suddenly, I didn’t know who I was anymore outside of those three things. I didn’t know what I liked. I didn’t know what I was good at. I didn’t know what I wanted for myself. When people would ask, “If time and money were no object, what would you want to do?”, I wanted to close my eyes, cover my ears and scream,
“I have no idea!!!”
I felt as though I was wearing hats, juggling balls and filling roles — but the core of me was unknown. In this new context of wifehood, ministry and motherhood, I got lost.
And I was desperate to be found.
Everyone meant well, especially my husband. Reassuring me that the roles I filled each day indeed made me who I was. And I would nod, and say, “yes, you’re right.” But I didn’t believe that was all. There was something missing. I felt it daily — huge hole needing to be filled, that would bring all the hats and balls and roles together and make it all fit. And make a better wife and mom. And bring joy and life abundant.
It wasn’t that being a wife and mother wasn’t enough. Not at all. It was just my soul was aching for something I couldn’t identify yet. It was a divine longing.
I used to wonder if Jesus — those 30 years he was simply a son and carpenter and brother — felt the same way. That His life was all well and good, but knowing in His core, in His spirit and His soul, that there was more. Waiting for the one thing that made it all fit. I wonder if He was desperate to be found.
And then His ministry began. And instead, He found us.
I’m slowly discovering the me God created. I’m rediscovering the things that bring me joy and satisfaction as Monica, outside of what hat I’m wearing. Dreams from long ago are resurfacing and whispering, “I was here for a reason. I haven’t died. Don’t forget about me. Don’t let me go.”
It will be a continual process, I’ll always be “…ing” — in the process of — growing, learning, changing and being. I’ll always be finding, but always remain found.