Uniquely Different and Belong?

2010-05-09T14:51:00.001-07:00

According to the online dictionary to be different means;

1. partly or completely unlike

2. not identical or the same; other

3. out of the ordinary; unusual

Honestly, I have fought against being different. I wanted to fit in, belong somewhere, be loved and cherished just because I exist.

To belong means:

a. To be proper, appropriate, or suitable:

b. To be in an appropriate situation or environment:

a. To be a member of a group, such as a club.

b. To fit into a group naturally:

3. To have in one's possession. Often used with to: .

4. To be a part of something else:

And in reading these two different sets of definitions I saw my ambivalence. I want to belong, be a part of something, and, I want to be different, unique in a way which is solely my own.

My ambivalence crystallized this morning as I was sitting staring out the window at the trees. They are amazingly green with all sorts of new growth. The sun is especially bright after days of rain. I was grateful to rest in what I was seeing, and yet my eyes kept returning to the vase of flowers I brought home from work last night. There are a dozen mostly white and creamy pale yellow tulips. Right in front is a pink one and in back is a purple striped one with the longest stem. Honesty, it looks gangly. Because of the stem it is not part of the rest of the compact arrangement. It appears as if it is attempting to get out of the vase stretching towards some grand adventure. I smile every time I look at it.

So how does this apply to my ambivalence? My eyes saw all the flowers, their identical vase shape, same stem strength and color. The mass of pale yellow and white flowers are beautiful, and, I am continually drawn either to the purple flower or to the pink. They belong in this arrangement and they are unique. They are more beautiful because they are different. They stand out.

I found myself feeling conflicted. I want to be like that pink or purple flower. Daring to be different and still fitting in naturally. I long to be in a community where that is possible. My growing up years were not about being different, but about conformity, rules, and a strict code of ethics which resulted in stifling behavior. But I was the strong willed one. I didn’t fit. I didn’t want to be stifled. And my non-conformity brought punishment. I felt ashamed of who I was, my creativity and my differences.

So overtime I learned to shut down my heart. I swallowed what I was thinking and feeling. I did not name what I longed for. I hide my differences. Oh granted there were times when I would burst and speak, but those times brought strange looks and comments. I took that to mean; if I wanted friends and a place to belong I needed to keep myself to myself. I believed a lie.

I was stifled. I was bored. I learned to put on a plastic face, fit in and be what others expected in the moment. I avoided being seen. I thought I was avoiding being hurt. Actually I was emotionally dead and living a less-than, and small life. I learned a brand of conformity which worked to keep me safe as a child and was now choking me.

Then God reminded me I am made in His image. I am uniquely designed and created by Him and am beautiful in His sight. I was not made for hiding. I looked at the flowers again and realized even the ones with the same color are each minutely different.

So I am off on a new adventure. What does it mean to be uniquely me, following Him and still a part of the communities in my life? What will it look like to drop the masks of conformity and truly live? And when my desire to belong comes up against my desire to be different, will I in that moment choose to be kind to myself and my ambivalence?

I hope so. I realized something. . . . I am no longer bored. What an amazing feeling!

I Have A Story?

2010-02-15T08:48:00.001-08:00

All good stories, whatever the form, have the ability to pull us in and engage our hearts. We see ourselves in the story. We are the hero, or the warrior, the beautiful queen or daring adventurer, or the one struggling against adversity. The Lord of the Rings, Bravehearts, The Notebook, and others invite us to engage and dream of what could be, or what is, or remember what was once true for us. Leaving a good movie, my heart feels full and satisfied.

Why then is it so easy for me to immerse myself in a movie and miss the themes of my life? I frequently hear in group, Why tell my story at all? Do I even have a story worth listening to? How do I know? Story? What story?

We meet someone for the first time, and within the first few minutes of conversation we ask, What is your name? What do you do? Do you have children? The answer could be I’m Stan. I grew up in Texas. I have three kids, or – I’m Melissa. I’m a college student.” Or I’m an orphan. Whether we realize it or not, we tell and hear stories all day long. Our lives are stories.

Why do we think our story is of less importance than a movie or a good book and label them small or mundane? When did we stop dreaming and believing our life could be part of a grand adventure? Many of us can name the facts of our lives, but it can feel more like a newspaper account than a good novel. We think we are safe when we flee behind high walls of indifference, numbness, or forgetfulness. We are not safe. We are numb to joy and sorrow. The full sweetness of life is lost to us.

Frankly it’s easier and less painful to not look deeply and honestly at our lives. It takes courage to speak the truth. We will need to be willing to face what we find. Identifying the themes of our stories, has the potential to show us what we believe and feel about ourselves, others and God. When we pause and allow ourselves to savor truth slowly, then we create room for our hearts to change and expand. In this place we can hear how God feels about us. Telling our stories is a large part of what we do in Grace Groups.

Kaleidoscope of Grace

Uniquely Different and Belong?

I Have A Story?