Showing posts with label weakness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weakness. Show all posts

I'm a Little Dog in a Big Dog World


During November and December, I'll be diving into a personal Bible study of hope. I'll be sharing what I learn here, in a series called "Hope for the Holidays and Everydays."

Each week, I'll be giving away a book. This week's title is 21 Ways to Connect With Your Kids by Kathi Lipp, with personality assessment and applications contributed by yours truly! 


Oh, and if you haven't already "Liked" Kathi on Facebook, I think you'll actually LOVE her!

Enter via the Rafflecopter at the end of the blog post or click to enter here.

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Big Dogs
I’m a big dog girl.

I grew up with a 50-pound Samoyed, Nikki.

Our first dog as newlyweds was a big black Labrador Retriever.

Shatzi, my Keeshond, only tips the scales at 35 pounds, but since most of that is fur, she looks like a big dog.


Little Dogs

In our household, we call the toy breeds “squeaky toys.”

Anything smaller than our smallest cat simply can not be taken seriously as a canine.

Years ago, in Shatzi’s puppy class, we met an itsy-bitsy chihuahua named Chiquita. This teacup mite weighed a few ounces and shook violently if anyone looked in her direction.

While all the other puppies learned to sit, stay, and come, Chiquita’s big accomplishment at the end of eight weeks was spending a few seconds nose-to-nose with Alexander, the 40-pound German Shepard puppy, without puddling in fear.


I am a Big Dog Girl

Did I mention that I am a big dog girl?

(Keep in mind: I am a big dog girl.)

When the counselor who leads my eating disorder group explained to us last year, “Each woman has her own unique sensitivity and reactivity. Some are like big bold German Shepherds while others are like little timid Chihuahuas.”

NO. 

No, no, no.

I am a big dog girl!

I refuse to be a Chihuahua!

I am NOT a squeaky toy!

I want to be a big bold German Shepherd!!!


I Want to be a Big Dog

This morning, I read this Tweet from Mary DeMuth, a Christian author and speaker I greatly admire:

I want to live an outward life that blesses others, not an inward-looking life where I obsess over my shortcomings.

And I thought about yesterday's blog post and my most recent solo performance. 

NO. 

No, no, no.
I am a big dog girl!

I don’t want to be a squeaky toy!

I don’t want to be an inward-looking obsesser who focuses on her shortcomings!

I want to live an outward life that blesses others!


I am a Little Dog

In my quiet time this morning, I read Mark’s account of the widow’s offering. 

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

And it struck me: I know about giving out of poverty. 

Emotional poverty. 

I know about watching strong Christian speakers who have their lives together and marriages together and parenting together and big beautiful hair all together and wishing so desperately I could have what they have so I could give what they give in such abundance.

I desperately want to be a German Shepherd: big and bold for Christ!

But all I actually have is a broken Perfectionism ruler and a retired Anxiety Girl cape. 

That’s pretty much everything: my life in a nutshell. 

I’m a timid trembly teacup Chihuahua whose big accomplishment on any given day is not being reduced to a puddle of tears.

Yet when I give Him all of what little I have -- all I have to live on -- He considers my worthless gifts greater than all the others?

This makes no sense to me.

But my heart leapt this morning at the thought it just might be true: 

  • I don’t need to keep trying to be a big dog. 
  • I don’t need to be ashamed of being a shaky little dog.
  • All I need to do is give him all I’ve got.
And trust Him to do the rest!

Be strong and take heart
all you who hope in the Lord.
Psalm 31:24



Your Turn:
  • What makes you feel like a tiny teacup chihuahua in a world full of big bold German Shepherds?
  • What are your "two very small copper coins"? 
  • Anything else on your heart!
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Day 29: STRENGTH (In My Weakness, His Strength)


Each day during The PURSE-onality Challenge: "A Holiday-Ready Heart" in October, Untangling Christmas by Karen Ehman and LeAnn Rice, will be our give-away prize!  


Enter via the Rafflecopter at the end of the blog post or click here to enter!




I can do everything through Him
who gives me strength.
Philippians 4:13 (NIV)

My original plan for my newest monologue was a 10-minute stand-up comedy routine about the “joys” of being Anxiety Girl. 

Oh, how I wanted to make the audience laugh.

For my Sanguine heart, there is nothing like the adrenaline rush of an audience in stitches!  

But each time I sat down to write, memories of losses filled my pages.

Frustrated, I decided to “get the sad stuff out” so I could finally start with Anxiety Girl.

Except the “sad stuff” kept beckoning me back. To places I’ve been afraid to go, for decades.

Since standing up to Perfectionism back in May, I’m intentionally living the truth that nothing really is worse than failure. Nothing really is worse than making mistakes.

So despite my craving for audience laughter, I chose to follow where the Holy Spirit was so clearly leading my scared scarred heart.

After decades of nothing, we walked together toward that body of water called Grief.


I’ve Waded Here Before

Oh, I’ve “dabbled” in grief.
  • Spent time in counselors’ offices.
  • Read books.
  • Attended groups.
  • Agreed that “the only way out is through.”


And I’ve been frustrated with my lack of progress...my stuck-ness. 

All that money. All that time. All those books.  

For what?!?

I’m tired of still having so many issues. I’m embarrassed that I still have so many issues.  I’m bored of still having so many issues!


Diving All the Way In 

As I wrote and practiced, I realized there is a world of difference between wading a little way into grief on my own and diving in all the way with my Life Guard.

Mucking around on my own has just made mud. And mud sticks and dries, leaving me to wonder 

Why bother digging up all this old dirt?

Yuck.

So I’ve always gotten out quickly, dusted myself off, and made myself presentable again.

After all, who wants to hang out with someone who’s all grungy from wallowing in the shallows of self-pity?

But this was different.

As I wrote... 
  • my sorrow at leaving the back yard gate open when I was 12
  • my horror at hearing car tires screech at midnight and Nikki’s yelp of pain cut short
  • my loneliness at losing my big furry giver of unconditional love
  • my guilt at being the one whose forgetfulness caused his needless death
  • many more memories of loss

...dams began to burst.

I wept.

Not the romantic glisten-y kind of weeping.

The messy, beet-red nose kind sobbing that empties an entire box of Kleenex.


A True Cleansing

What’s the point of doing this?  I asked myself.

The question almost stopped me. At least with my first monologue, I knew my purpose. 

With this one, I was going on blind faith.
  • Maybe the point is trust. 
  • Surrendering my need to know the outcome.
  • Focusing on obedience.

I started practicing my words aloud--words I knew I would share with an audience of strangers--and the burst dams became an ocean.

And it was time
  • to do more than wade
  • to dive all the way in
  • through my fears
  • through cleansing tears

into an embrace of Grace


My Weakness, His Strength

The day of the performance came, and with it a terrifying realization: 

I need to do this without my script.

I’ve never spoken or performed without a detailed word-for-word script within reach.

I always panic and forget; I need my script for security!
  • So I do it right.
  • So I don’t fail.
  • So I don’t make mistakes!

Oh yeah.
  • That rule is broken.
  • Time to trust. 
  • Time to dive all the way in.

I’ve never felt so completely in the moment as I did during those ten minutes. I was neither kicking myself for a mistake I’d just made nor frantically trying to be sure I spoke my next lines just right. 

I simply shared as I’d prepared.

I was fully present to give and receive a reciprocal gift.


Stoic “Strength” vs. Willing Weakness

Afterward, I received this gracious Facebook message from an audience member:

“I was thinking about how vulnerable you allowed yourself to be. How that made an instant connection with the audience as we saw our own struggles in yours.”

And I am struck by the irony.

Here I’ve spent decades running from grief because I've been terrified to experience the pain. I’ve waded, dabbled, and then dashed for so-called safety.

Yet in my choice to be vulnerable -- deep in my decision to open myself to pain -- is where I’m finding God waiting for me with an abundance of strength. 

Not in the shallows, mucking around in the mud of self-pity.

But deep in the sounds of grief.


My Weakness, His Strength for the Holidays

I don't know what issues arise for you during the holidays. 

Perhaps, like me, you'll struggle with un-grieved losses. 

Perhaps you'll experience fresh waves of pain for losses well-grieved. 

Perhaps the weakness that blind-sides you -- that tempts you to wade in ankle-deep, dabble a bit, and muck around on your own -- will be something entirely different.

I don't know what it will be for you. But I do know that for each one of us, this simple reminder is always true:


Jesus loves me this I know
for the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong.
We are weak but He is strong!

(Part 2 tomorrow)



Your Turn:
  • How have you learned to grieve (or have you)? 
  • For what will you need special strength this holiday season? 
  • Anything else on your heart!


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    What "Too Sensitive" Means to Me


    Several weeks ago, Jen Sloniger invited She Speaks graduates to consider guest posting blog on the topic of learning to depend on Jesus in the midst of weakness. At first, I thought, "I have nothing to say on that topic." 

    The more I prayed and pondered, the more convicted I became that perhaps I did.  Jen's podcast "Dirt Road Dependence" aired on Proverbs 31 Ministry's Encouragement Cafe on Friday, and I'm honored to be part of her guest blog post series this week. 

    “You’re such a crybaby!”

    “You take everything so personally!”

    “You’re just too sensitive!”

    All my life, I’ve been embarrassed of my tears. I’ve wondered what’s wrong with me that I am so easily hurt by a few careless words. I’ve considered myself defective because I feel everything so deeply.

    And I've felt completely alone because nobody understood me.


    “Too” Sensitive as a Child

    My father recalls:  “As a young girl, in kindergarten and primary grades, you...
     

    I hope you’ll head over to Jen’s blog for “the rest of the story”! 
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