Years ago when I volunteered with YoungLife, I was trained how to create Bible studies specifically for the high school students I was discipling. The main gist was: imagine those students could only take 1 suitcase to college. What would I want to make sure was packed in there?
The answer was obvious to me: I wanted them to know they were loved, to value themselves enough that others couldn’t devalue them. It wasn’t self-help. It was biblical truth. It still is.
It was the blind leading the blind, or at least I can look back and realize how blind I really was. Next year I’ll hit that proverbial hill and yet I’m going through my second divorce. Yes, second.
Insert mental picture of me hanging my head in shame.
But this isn’t about shame. Not even sympathy. It’s about our suitcases. You see, a friend made a comment a while ago, something about my picker being broken (“picker” as in the thing that helps me select the men in my life). She’s right.
This broken-picker girl is back on a mission to help pack suitcases, but my targets are different this time. First victim: me! Next up, my girlie.
She hadn’t heard me use the cliche “do what I say, not what I do,” until the final threads of my second marriage began unraveling. And along with that old standby, she also hears, “Make sure your picker is working properly.”
I guess I say it more than I realize because last night she made a comment that surprised me, restating an answer I forgot I’d told her previously.
“Micayla, do you know why my picker was broken?”
“Yup. Because you didn’t love yourself enough.”
Oh, sweet tears. If all this pain and agony I’m going through only results in my girl coming to love herself enough, it will be worth it all. Yes, every stinking tear I’ve cried at all of the most inconvenient times: worth it in full.
If I can keep learning this on the other side of the hill while teaching my girlie long before she even spies it, well, let’s just say it’d be a life well lived in my book.
And so we pack our suitcases. Lean into Love, for of course loving enough can never come from within, for that would only produce a mere illusion, a puffing up of something that doesn’t deserve to swell. Oh, but to sit at the feet of the one who made us? To listen to what He has to say about us? To believe we’re more than mere dust or happenstance. To believe. Accept. Embrace. Wrap ourselves in the truth and as we do, to see that same truth covers others. It isn’t a comparison game. A better or worse than. Just a pure, unadulterated enough.
I’m beginning to think we really can’t ask for more than enough!
Oh Father, forgive me for the countless times my thoughts or actions try to say that you goofed either in making me or in the depths of your love for me. I don’t mean to discredit your love, but it’s so vast that I can’t comprehend it. Stretch my mind so I can get a better glimpse of who you say I am. Give me the boldness to do what you ask of me. Help me live fully–fully alive, fully obedient. Help me wear your love and be transformed and renewed by it. And let me love others the way you desire, even when it costs so very much. And of course, please help my love for you grow more and more every day. Lord, I love you. Amen.