Knowing You, Meeting Me

A First Time for Everything

on April 20, 2011

Earlier today, someone who knows me well, suggested that I take my experiences, stories and wit (ok, I’ll admit, I added that last one) and chronicle them in a blog. Two months ago I would have laughed. “I may talk a lot, but I really don’t have anything to say.” Turns out, that’s not quite true. But more on that later.

I want to give this blog the respect it deserves so I will save my “real” first blog for later on tonight when I have my thoughts gathered and my Bible ready (this gives you fair warning that this is going to be one of those kinds of blogs). Until then, I will test this site out with something I wrote in October of 2007. 

Thanks for watching, and enjoy the show.


I know I haven’t blogged in a really long time. Ironically enough five months ago today (which I only realized by looking at the date box at the top of the screen). That I find kinda ironic. I had originally planned to make my return to the electronic canvas an update of the ongoings of my life since I last penned. But all of a sudden, as much as has happened, none of it seems more important than this very moment. 

On Sunday, Lee and I went to an Israel Houghton and New Breed concert with my brother, Brandon, and his wife (yaaaaaaaaay!!!) Erica. Obviously it was awesome. That pretty much goes without saying. So obviously I got the CD (how I didn’t have it before then is beyond me. We are experienced “Israel-ians” so normally we get the new stuff within days of its release.) So here I am on the couch with my new baby girl and she’s quietly watching me read A Deeper Level the book that chronicals the experiences that New Breed had while working on their newest project. The other three are upstairs sleeping so I had a rare moment to think about things other than The Wiggles and what I’d be making for dinner. 

That’s when it hit me. A revelation that almost literally rocked the book (and the baby) from my hands.” If you knew who you were, you would have never put down the tiara.” Yeah, that one is gonna take some explaining. 

The song playing in the background was one by Chris Tomlin and Israel. Chourus simply: 

I know who I am 
I know who I am 
I know who I am 
I am Yours I am Yours 
And You are mine 
Jesus, You are mine 

When I was about 10 years old, I really struggled with the fact that my father essentially seemed completely indifferent to my very existance. My parents divorced when I was 15 months old and I didn’t lay eyes on the man again until I was about 14 or 15. Everyone I knew did “the Christian thing” and told me that I didn’t have to feel the void because God was my father. A thought I took completely for granted until I went to bed one night. 

I had this dream that I was this five year old little girl in the stereotypical pink party dress and I was running for all it was worth through this big hall in this huge apparent castle. I got to a set of double doors that reminds me of a scene out of Disney’s Sleeping Beauty – complete with the funny looking guards with the dress looking things and the really long horns. They opened the door for me and immediately I ran into the arms of this giant man. He hugged me and tickled me and then sat me on his lap. From the side of his throne (I know I’m gonna take a lot of heat for this) he picked up a pink and purple present box. The tag said, “for my princess”. Inside was this gorgeous tiara. On my head was a paper one. And without saying a word he took the old one and replaced it with the one from inside the box. And then he smiled at me and I woke up. 

And so I think about my life lately. Most of my days are spent in PJs or sweats. I can’t remember the last time I wore makeup. And because you guys all know me, I won’t even go there with the state of my hair. Am I promoting vanity? Not at all. But I think that when one goes so far as to just not care, there’s a problem. 

I grew up in an amazing community of believers. I was very fortunate to gain the experiences I did. I belonged to a thriving church led by a great man of God. Our youth group was unstoppable and was spearheaded by one of the most compassionate and caring team of people to ever step foot on the earth. I know tons of rhetoric. I know what to say and when to say it. I know when to lift my hands and when to fall on my knees. But in this moment, I feel like I’m missing something. 

I don’t know who I am 

As children of the King, it doesn’t take a theologian to deduct how our Creator sees us. But more often than not, the things we do (and more importantly, the things we don’t) make it blatently apparent that we really don’t get it. I know if I got it, I would take more pride in my appearance. Too long I have had this “what’s the point” feeling. He is the point. Do I really approach life as someone who was fearfully and wonderfully made? Hardly. And yet I take great care in the appearance of my own children. I don’t even like them to play in the dirt in clothes that don’t match. They don’t even sleep in unmatched things. I do that because I love them. But that’s not even close to being enough. If I really loved them as I say I do, I’d take better care of their caretaker – me. 

So I’m asking my friends today: do you know who you are? I’m not quite sure what this is going to mean for me. But it is something to think about. This much I do know: as a child of God – a would be princess – I don’t think it was ever His intention for me to settle with rags. 

I’ll be in touch. 


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