I’m sitting here thinking of my identity. Where I’ve come from, where I’ve been, whom I have aligned myself with, whom I have made relationships with…they have all played a part in sculpting my image into what I am today. Obviously some have assumed greater roles than others, but each has affected the sum of the whole in a way that will never be erased. Undeniably one thing is true…the indelible nature of my Father’s fingerprint cannot be avoided, nor do I wish to.
So many times we look to our families, either for inspiration or excuses, and categorize our existence into a shell of limitations. “No one in my family ever has…”, or “We just weren’t raised that way…” can permeate even the most faith-filled conversations with our closest peers, as if we have a built in parachute to soft landings should our attempts to rocket up the greatest heights come one billowing blast short of the mark.
I look to my five year old who has no idea that she is anything other than who she is. She embraces her God, herself, her family, her dominion, as her greatest assets, believing that these are the foundations upon which success is built. She has no recognition of failure, and knows nothing other than a future full of promise. I never want that to change. How do I foster something which at this point in my life seems so foreign and distant?
By God’s grace she’ll accomplish everything He ever intended, everything she ever desires. Protect her identity in You, so she won’t believe the lies of world that doesn’t recognize itself.
I leave you some Robert Frost, “Revelation”
We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout
But oh, the agitated heart
Till someone find us really out.
’Tis pity if the case require
that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.
But so with all, from babes that play
At hide-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.