On Being Enough - 20 Years Later

"What am I doing?!" I thought as I stared bleakly into my closet. Nothing looked good. I felt ugly. I wanted to cry. I wanted to shop, to find something that would help me feel pretty. Or at least not like a whale. I closed the closet door and sighed deeply. I sat down on my bed wondering why I was doing this. Why I was even contemplating this. I cried out to God.

As I sat there and thought it through, I wrestled to feel the truth - that I am enough. Even being overweight. Even hating everything about my physical appearance. Even with every imperfection that I'm able to name and discuss in excruciating detail. Even when I don't feel like it. I am enough. I don't need to be better or different or more beautiful. I am enough right now. 

Today is my 20th high school reunion. I've been on the fence for weeks about whether I'd go. High school wasn't a good experience for me. I was picked on a lot - even by some teachers. I've never, ever been able to keep my opinion to myself, nor have I been able to fly under the radar. Couple those things with some really hard personal life stuff and I spent a lot of time getting in trouble. I was told - by the principal no less - that I'd never make the honor roll. I was told I'd that I'd never graduate from high school. I was told I was ugly, fat, worthless - the list goes on and on and on. I had friends, but I never knew how to be accepted by them. I was always trying to please or be liked or fit in.

I was even told I probably wouldn't live past the age of 18.

Without God's direct intervention in my life that would have been true. How I lived long enough for God to get hold of me and do some serious work and healing is still the biggest miracle I've ever seen. I know what I was like and where I was headed. And God held on tight as He ordered my days to keep my alive and heal what was so badly broken.

It's so easy to look at social media and think, "Man, they have it all together." But that's not true. No one has it all together. There is pain and challenge in this life, I don't care who you are. As one speaker recently put it, "Social media is a billboard, not a diary." We all tend to post things that are good - the best dinner we've had, shots when we're wearing makeup and have a decent hair day, cute pictures of our kids... It all makes life look dreadfully Utopian. And if we get caught up believing that this is 100% of reality, then we're going to compare ourselves to something that doesn't exist. Though the happy pictures and good meals are true snapshots in time they are not the sum total of time. There's a whole lot of life between pictures and posts that never gets recorded for the world (and, frankly, shouldn't).

I'm not perfect. I wish I had a super cute and sexy outfit, they body to wear it, and a handsome fella on my arm who is madly in love with me. I wish I didn't struggle with insecurity and the occasional ghost that haunts my memories. There is nothing wrong with either of those wishes, but not having a genie to grant them doesn't mean I have to hide or sit still.

I have a story. My story is rich and has all manner of plot twists. There is heartache, rejection, pain, joy, success, failure - all the things that make a story people want to read. I have a purpose - one that is far greater than just about me. I have deep, meaningful relationships that have been forged in the fire of life. I am known. And I am loved. And I am enough.

So from this place of being enough, being okay, I'm going to my reunion. I'm going without a date or what society thinks of as a killer body. I'm going to see people I haven't in a really long time. I'm going to enjoy seeing where other people's stories have taken them. I'm going to rejoice in the fact that I'm still here and can share memories from 20 years ago, my earlier chapters that looked so dark and bleak and without a hero, and enjoy the fact that I am living proof of a merciful God who didn't let my story end there.

Oh... and for the record - I made the honor roll a couple times in high school out of spite because I don't like being told "I can't" and I graduated. I went to college. I have two degrees and graduated with honors. I sent a copy of my Bachelor's degree to the principal who couldn't see what God saw, just to let him know that maybe, just maybe, there are things below the surface that deserve exploring.

Blindsided by Desire

In third grade they test the kids to see whether they will end up placed in the academically gifted classes going forward. Based on the note they sent home a few weeks ago apparently this is a forever designation, all the way through high school. (Also, they really test these kids a lot - and there are no validation and reliability documents sent home for parents to review and consider whether or not the test is even applicable to their kid, but that's a subject for another day.)

Anyway, I never pressure El Kiddo on standardized tests. They are what they are and in some cases they suck. As a matter of fact, I've heard a bunch of stories of how the standardized end-of-grade testing often has wrong answers on it. So when I read the stuff that was sent home letting parents know this was happening I was really surprised by how I felt. I wanted El Kiddo to do well and get placed in the academically gifted stuff in fourth grade.

What in the world?

I try hard to let his life be his life and not put inappropriate expectations on him because it's something I want that ultimately isn't all that important. But this was different. Maybe it's because I was in academically gifted classes... Maybe it's because I see how insanely smart he is... Maybe it's because I want other people to see how smart he is...

Look, there is nothing wrong with being smart. I struggled for a long time to acknowledge that I'm smart. Seriously. But there's being smart and there's wanting other people to see how smart you are... Or in this case - how smart your kid is. Why on earth would I give a crap about whether people see him as smart?

I really had to sit down and think about this. Ultimately what I determined was that it was a pride issue - mine. We have some really tough days here, which is nothing new for those who are parents. This stuff isn't for the faint of heart. Sometimes, because I do this parenting thing alone, I get tired and discouraged. It's lonely business. While I have great support from lots of people, ultimately evening homework is mine to battle through with El Kiddo. I fight bed-time battles alone. I do all the discipline. In fact, I do all the everything when it comes to the adult stuff. I'm the only in-the-moment person he's got and I get the brunt of everything.

When I distilled it all down, I wanted him to be selected because his smarts somehow validate me. While I surely wouldn't have said this out loud, what was playing out in my heart was that if he was selected it validated me as a parent. It validated all the fights, all the struggles, all the tears expended to try to get him not to flunk out of elementary school because he hates to sit still and do work.

And this is the absolutely entirely wrong motivation for seeing him selected. My job isn't to raise a kid who's smart and gets into a special program. My job is to raise a kid who learns what's needed, whether that's got a grade or designation attached or not. My job is to raise a man who loves Jesus (or at least put every bit of kindling possible around his heart in hopes the Holy Spirit will light that kid up). And whether he lands in a gifted class or not, there is no reflection on me. I don't need him to accomplish anything for me to be validated - I'm enough as-is and as God changes me from glory to glory to be like Him.

So, God worked this identity issue out with me. Because He's awesome like that. And it frees me up to love my kiddo more purely because I'm not trying to gain something from my relationship with him. I'm functioning from a place of wholeness and that keeps him from having any unnecessary burdens.

Now, to get him through third grade math without one of us going over the edge...