Chapter 6

There are times in life when everything  seems to be coming together: you look ahead and the path is remarkably, beautifully, giggling strait.  Perhaps just a little bumpy.  Or perhaps it’s the retrospective end- of -chapter finality that is making the world seem the way it did.  My need to write and search and ponder was swept away in the bliss and perfectly timed newness of love and learning and teaching and paint.

But they’re back: the swirling thoughts and words and questions and run-on-sentences that echo my wonderings as I suddenly find myself without the familiar anchor of school, learning a new level of “realness” in life. 

And so chapter 6 begins with Jennifer, once again finding herself on an identity quest somewhat reminiscent of the first day at a new school. 

I think I’ve hardened into the mold of gearing up for new adventures backwards.  I look at the challenge in front of me, think about how I want to be perceived, and proceed to choose the magenta sweater: at once a comfort blanket and a bold move.  Let your eyes take this picture of “Jennifer” confident, outgoing, artistic, talented, loved.  Some days, potentially most days, that feels like a costume.  I’d be happy to be cozy in the background, quiet, sipping tea, watching.  

Maybe it isn’t barrettes and a zippered hoodie anymore.  (And frankly, I’ll take courage in the delight of never returning to grade 6.) Today its a ring, a teaching portfolio, a wedding website and a birthday cake. 

So to be clear: I’m gearing up for battle on the outside. Slipping into the armor of dress pants and blouses – I am a teacher.  Figuring out the likes of pinterest and guest lists and blocks of hotel rooms - I am a fiancée.   My portfolio of pretty looking experience, the flowers carefully arranged in my room, the layered cake and lattice pie crust all proof that I’m ready for the things that may be coming my way.

Later on in chapter six we see the contrast between the self-portrait and the self-image.

Literary devices aside,

It’s hard to remember every morning that my value, my worth and my identity is in Christ, not in the things going on my life. And bluntly, what does that even mean?

I am a child: accepted and understood when I make mistakes, misunderstand, and scrape my knees. I’m not supposed to have it all figured out. I’m not supposed to know all the answers.  I’m not supposed to “grow up too fast.”  I was made to embrace the pattern of learning and growing and swallowing peas as my Father gets me ready for the life He’s calling me too.  There’s no graduating.  There’s no “age of majority.”  I’m a kid. And I’m staying that way.  And how beautiful is it to know that it’s always ok to cry out when there’s a monster under the bed?

I am a servant: not because I’m bound or forced, but because Christ showed his love for me in this: while I was still a sinner, he died for me.  He loved me first. He loves me sacrificially.  His love has bought me from the captivity of death into he freedom of everlasting life.  The most beautiful and the most meaningful thing I can do is to follow the example of Mary, who poured perfume on the feet of Jesus, kissing them, washing them with her tears and drying them with her hair.    Whatever I “do” – if it’s teaching or washing dishes – I do out of love for Him.  And one day when I learn to drop the pride and serve Him in the season He has placed my through job he will bless me with, my job title is not my identity.

I am cherished: I get this feeling when my fiance is resting in my arms, that God has placed His beloved masterpiece creation in my care for my lifetime.  I am holding something far too precious for my clumsy hands, and I am feeling something far to deep for my little heart.  And suddenly I realize that this is the most tangible “word study” I’ve come across.   So much more than I can treasure this man, I am treasured by the God who made me.  I am cherished to the point that Jesus, knowing all of who I am, would choose to love me.  Exactly the wanderer and “stumbler” that I am: there’s a seat for me at His table and room for me in His house, and He will hold me, love me, and care for me eternally.    

Life can be overwhelming if I spend the whole morning figuring out what to wear.  Really, nothing in my closet is going to get me ready for a daunting job hunt, or for the unimaginable journey that marriage will be 8 months from now. 

I need to look first at my heart: being filled and changed and readied by l’amour de Dieu, being fully fitted with the armor of God – so that it’s not my self-image or my self-portrait or even my reflection that myself and others know as “me,” but instead I am the Jennifer that the Lord of heaven and earth knit together in my mothers womb.