Chasing After Me

On Sunday at Bloom, I put a shared a picture of a seemingly confident and happy woman 22-year-old woman on the big screen for all to see.

The young woman was just out of college and, on the surface, looked as if she was happier than happy and probably had all of her crap together.

But, in all actuality, it was a girl who had struggled for years with things that many people struggle with… starving herself and then forcing herself to puke when she did eat…racking up crazy amounts of credit card debt at a very young age with no great way to pay it off…going out every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night…drinking too much…finding guys to pay attention to her. In many moments, she was afraid the façade would crack, and that people would instantly see her thoughts of inadequacy, imperfection and brokenness. That they would instantly see that she was a sham.

You know people who feel this way. In fact the “people” are probably you.

I would know.

I had to put that picture up on Sunday as I shared with my dear friend Tamara about seeing ourselves as God sees us…I had to put that picture up because it was me…because it was a me who saw herself as broken.

A couple weeks back, when we were mapping out that message, one of my best and most trusted friends mortified me when he shared that some people think I’m always confident and strong and that I don’t make mistakes. I was mortified because didn’t want that to be the case. Ever. I wanted people to see me as transparent. Those closest to me know that a “confident, strong and perfect” Dawn is not reality. But what kept me awake all that night was a burning desire to lay some of the hard stuff out there…a desire to embrace transparency. Not because I was trying to hide anything from anyone, but because those real moments are the moments that can connect people with hope.

Those moments connect people with hope because they can see an anchor of hope at work in your own life…when they can see you smile despite what you’ve gone through or are going through…when they see you can cry, yet still cling to hope to keep breathing…when they see another imperfect soul find love and acceptance from their higher power.

We all go through crap. We all do stupid things. We all have moments of weakness. We all have moments of feeling gross and dirty. But we often carry all of those feelings behind a façade of a smile. Those moments are integral parts of our stories. And, for me, I believe that God – thanks to Jesus – sees me perfect, holy and righteous, despite those moments of inadequacy…those moments in the past, those I’m living now, and those I’ll face in the future.

Embrace your whole story…not just the highlights…the highs and lows complete the story. Even the crap…because I believe God turns crap into fertilizer…where there is crap, beautiful things can grow.

One year ago I was packing up boxes at my desk.

One year ago I was meeting with people to let them know how much their friendships had meant to me over the years.

One year ago I did one most courageous thing I things I’ve ever done…I exchanged a life of routine and predictability for one filled with unknowns.

I left my amazing job of nearly 12 years to help friends plant a church…to start my own communications business…to learn more about myself.

Sounds cushy, right? Nope.

Crazy. Lost. Weak. Dense. Alone.

That’s how I’ve felt throughout the past year.

Stretched. Grateful. Loved. Fulfilled. Found.

That’s also how I’ve felt.

You see, courage doesn’t exist without risk.

Walking a path of unpredictability is hard. You end up tripping over yourself more than anything else. You doubt yourself. Question your decisions. You wonder who you are. And then you remember that it’s part of the ride. The courageous ride. The ride that shows promise of something great on the other side, even if you can’t see clearly what it is in the moment.

And, when you stop to remember the purpose, the ride becomes euphoric. It has meaning. You just need to put yourself in a place where you can see goodness and promise even in those dim moments.

My point? Opportunity is not painless. Even when it is what you know that you’re supposed to be doing. Even when you’re pursuing your passion and standing in your truth.

A year later, I’d make the same choice 1000 times over…even knowing all I’d feel. Because I’d also know the purpose found on the other side. The purpose to Bloom.

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Consider this a thank you note of sorts. A thank you to Best Buy and all of my amazing colleagues…for all you plant in your people…for all I learned…for all of your encouragement…and, dare I say, all your love. A year later I still feel it. And, it helped me discover purpose. I am forever grateful.

I never fit in. Not as a child. Not in school. Not now. I don’t think I’m super awkward or geeky (although some may argue that)…I’ve just never fit into anyone’s box.

For years that made me crazy. I tried fitting into ready-made boxes that I thought everyone else fit into…you know, the popular box, the intellectual box, the achiever box, the flirty-cutsie box, the political box, the sensitive and emotional box, the homemaker box, the focused professional box…nothing fit (actually, I could write an entire post on each of those boxes and why I don’t fit).

In my quest to fit into others’ boxes, I realize now I was trying to fit into what I thought were their perfections. For years, I tried to be perfect. I don’t know who I was fooling in trying to fit all these crazy molds. I morphed from unsuccessful perfection to unsuccessful perfection for different audiences. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t faking perfection…I was honestly trying to be perfect…for everyone…including myself (because then I’d fit perfectly in a box).

What the heck?! Talk about stressful! Behind closed doors I would break down under the pressure of perfection, and usually those who loved me most suffered from those breakdowns. (God bless my husband for loving me in spite of that.) I’d explode in anger, or hide in my bed in a sort of mini-depression and cry, or simply sleep for hours.

People, perfection is unhealthy!

Then it hit me. Hard. In an I-think-I-might-puke sort of way. I realized that if my life isn’t a testimony of God’s grace, then I was dissing all He made me to be. NEWS FLASH: perfection doesn’t show God’s love, it’s His love of imperfection that shows God’s true colors. I was being everything God didn’t want me to be.

Why doesn’t anyone teach us that when we’re young? In school we try to get As and be first in everything. We strive for perfection instead of understanding what we have to give to the world, and to other people.

Thirty-three years later, I’m finally starting to get it. It’s been a journey of self-discovery that’s helping me define who I am. Who I am to myself. Who I am to my husband. Who I am to my family. Who I am to my friends. Most importantly, who I am to God.

Revealing my whole self and my whole story refreshed and freed me. It also taught me to appreciate un-boxable traits and hate labels. As soon as I feel someone trying to put me in a box, I kick my way out. As soon as I see others getting boxed in, I want to help them escape. Boxes are confining and force us to fit into someone else’s definition of perfection or label of imperfection.

I’m human, imperfect and unique. And I’m finally OK with that. Even better, I’ve learned valuable lessons along the way:

First: Everything in my past is part of who I am today. Good and bad. I had a hard time with this one. I always wanted to hide things I thought were stupid, embarrassing or too personal. The thing is, the stupid, embarrassing and “too personal” things make me more me than the great things that have landed in my lap. In those moments, I’ve learned about my values, my vulnerabilities and the contents of my heart. Even better, it’s helped me connect to others in deeper and more meaningful ways.

Second: Life is too short to be different things to different people. I had to make a conscious decision to be all of who I am in every moment of life. My Facebook and Twitter friends are great examples: best friends, acquaintances, former co-workers, PR/communications professionals, old friends, authors, techies and Jesus followers. At one time, I didn’t really want any of my boxes to mingle. Talk about not living fully, not being fulfilled…and not living in the fullness I was created to live in! Who cares if I offend my PR/Communications peeps when I talk about God? Who cares if someone decides they don’t want to hear what I have to say if I go on a rampage describing all of the food I’m making? Who cares?! Others don’t need me to be a certain way. God needs me to be the way he made me…it’s better for everyone. And I know there is a purpose.

Third (and most important): Love. Period. Boxes and labels bring judgment (to me and to others). I’ve taught myself to be compulsive about finding something I appreciate about as many people as I can. Sure, people irritate me (in some cases, they infuriate me). But if I can find something, anything, to value in them, then I understand more of them…that one thing helps me see how human they are and helps me love them. If I judge them instead of love them, then I’ve labeled them and put them in a box. I’ve learned a lot about appreciating very diverse perspectives by doing this. God made each of us unlike any other. Embrace it and love it. Judgment is selfish. Love is selfless.

This crazy journey of self-discovery and taking myself (and others) out of boxes wasn’t about self-confidence or about feeding my pride. It’s helped me be OK with my imperfect self and open my eyes to God’s direction for my life.

I don’t have all of this figured out yet, not sure I ever will. But, what I do know is that I’m no longer jumping from box to box. I picture myself walking all over them – smashing the boxes and kicking them out of the way – and it’s sort of fun.