New Girl

 Hey. Hi. There’s a new girl in town. As much as I can laugh it off with “I’m not from around here,” and other phrases of the like, it’s an odd thing. I’ve already wondered when it won’t be a thing. I don’t feel like I’m always “me”; not because I’m being someone different but perhaps that just some of it is suppressed. Like you open up the bottle, but you don’t always dump all of it out, pouring a little out at a time to see how it’s taken, a taste test perhaps. Or worst of all, you put your best out there first, I’ve already caught myself trying to tell a story or two, again all true, but trying to do it to gain an image of who I’d like them to think that I am. It feels cheap. Like trying to pay someone to trust you. That’s not how it works. 

However, I’m still working on my approach. What if I wasn’t afraid to give them a blender version of me...like all the stories where you forget to put the lid on. Maybe I’d be too much, but maybe that would be okay. They can get the mess, and I’ll clean up. Maybe they wouldn’t like it and I’d have the grace to go on. There will likely be more than one or two that I won’t be anything like, but we can learn from each other. Learning the ever-present lesson that we often can learn from each other. Instead of wanting to better yourself and point to what I’ve got right, why don’t we think about what they’ve got right and try to be a bit more like that. 

Uprooting just about everything in your life is bound to bring out your insecurities. Just a few of the thoughts I’ve let harbor, I’d rather not fully disclose. A redefining of identity again and again. Like grinding it down to something even more useful. Like oat flour, everyone’s into that these days, right? I’ve even gone as far as glancing at my Facebook profile, acting like I’m someone stalking me. What do I look like, who am I presenting? That seems ridiculous, and I know it is. I know that. But I can’t help it. Suddenly I’m thinking all that I am might be being taken at a book cover glance. We have a story. As I seek out others’, I want others to see that too. 

Basically I’m realizing I don’t like to be patient. You don’t go from being the new girl to established in just a matter of weeks. Jesus says, patience, my child. He cares friends. And somehow, how on earth, I forget intermittently. He cares, probably actually more than I do. He cares where I land and where I’m going. He cares who I meet. He cares about a plan, though it might be different than mine. He cares that I care. Each person’s heart is in the hand of God, being steered as He sees right, how can man see where it leads. So I continue to come with open hands and hand over all of it again. My love, my plans, my trouble, my wants. He can take it. I lay down my life, my love, at His feet its’ treasure store. 

When you find yourself in a season like this, friend. Start praying. Write down what you are bringing to Him. I moved with only about 6 things that I wanted to pray about and see take place as I rebuilt my life. And I’m already starting to see glimpses of His goodness in that. And then remember to keep being prayerful about it. Keep asking, expectant hope.