Seasons are passing, All around me, people I knew as children are hitting middle age. For the most part, their emotional and relational velocities seem to have slowed and mellowed into mature relational and social skills, and childhood obsessions have either dissipated or evolved into adulthood vocations and hobbies.
Children are being born, friend groups are deepening, careers have been tried on, changed, and tailored to fulfill and validate. Forever homes have been built, and their families are settled in, their future place forecasted to their liking.
Everywhere I look, I see puzzle pieces fitting into their places. Some pieces were already nestled in firmly before they reached adulthood, a miracle or tragedy of family history. Others took a little more time and work, but also seem to have found where they belong. Then there are the pieces that were placed too fast, the pieces that had to be popped out painfully, carefully considered, and re-placed as they took on their full shape.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that I’m a mis-shaped puzzle piece, a puzzle piece with an odd shape, corners and colors in all the wrong places and shades. As a child I didn’t understand this. As a young married woman and mother, I was shocked to discover the same situation. I didn’t understand why, no matter how much I longed to have a place, no matter what my cultural background had promised me, there never was an empty spot with my shape in the landscapes of my life. The “cool sister” shape didn’t fit. The “sweet daughter” shape wasn’t for me. The “good wife and mother” space definitely didn’t fit. Faithful friend, successful homemaker, homeschool mom, church vocation, author, artist, princess, equestrian, doctor, ballerina… As a lonely #6, watching big brothers play together, working hard to impress and be accepted, I dreamed of the day when I would find my place, but childhood dreams and promises are deceptive. I didn’t know my shape. Honestly, I still don’t know my shape, but I’m beginning to learn.
Perspectives change. If you find yourself envying all those perfectly accepted, content, confident, and socially adept adults, or if you continually compare their strengths with your weaknesses, labeling your differences as faults (or listening to their condemnation) just stop. They probably don’t have it as good as you think. Maybe they do, but maybe they don’t. Wanting to be a better person is fine. Wanting to love others better and doubt God less is good. Thinking you ought to look and sound like someone else is not healthy. Thinking you ought to experience and process the world just like the people around you is also not healthy or right. Thinking you ought to fit into spaces that were created by and for people different than yourself will only produce sorrow, insecurity, shame, and anger, not to mention the relational and familial fallout sure to follow.
One last word. Jesus didn’t have a place. I find that it is when I’m with those friends that love Him with their souls that I begin to feel like all my odd corners are beginning to find their spaces, and I think this is because when I am with them, I am closer to Him. Jesus didn’t have a place here, but He alone is our place here. Settling into Him frees us to grow and mature into the sometimes simple, sometimes intricate pieces He created us to be. You and I do not need to keep searching. Rest in the Spirit of life, lean into the way He designed you, pray for grace, and take shape.
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