This is my dearest friend, Genie Uribe. I say dearest, because we’ve known each other since birth, and I simply cannot imagine a season in my future that she will not be a crucial part of. Anyways, she posted this song on youtube yesterday.
Whether you like the song or not, whether you enjoy female vocals or not, whether you are a Christian or not… the girl can freakin’ sing. That’s not something you can deny Genie, and if you try, you’ll just end up looking like a fool…
…Because Genie was made to sing.
I believe we were all created to point to, make famous of and glorify the one Who created us. And from there, each one of us was created to do one, or two or twenty specific things that accomplish that.
I’ve been thinking about what it means to be a witness of Jesus Christ in every day life. To be a witness of someone…. you would have to have witnessed something that they’ve done. Haha. So what is it that I have witnessed Christ do/is doing in my own little broken world, and how he is restoring it? How is he nudging me to point to, make famous of and glorify Him?
Well, there are many things I’ve seen Him do. But to stay in the same vein of the topic at hand, He has put people in my path who do what they were made to do. I have friends who sing, paint, talk about comics, record music, read poetry, teach, protect, make whiskey, design, give great hair cuts, tell stories, listen, organize, draw, paint nails artistically, counsel, make people laugh, write children’s books and sci-fi novels, rollerskate (competitively), take pictures, pay attention to the elderly, answer 911 calls, make guitars, exercise (professionally), play with kids, create delicious lattes, make movies, hang with teenagers, build legos, work at orphanages, make soap… and the list could go on. Almost everyone around me, just by living well, restores my soul and pushes me to do the things I was created to do. And while I’m nervous to say that that’s Jesus working in my life (because the internet is scary)…
A few months ago, I found myself sitting in my church office conference room, sobbing and speaking of feelings I didn’t know I felt.
Well, until that moment.
I couldn’t tell you the details of the conversation I was having with my pastor, because I honestly can’t remember what it was about. I know it was pretty light hearted and general, nothing too deep or major. But a few of Dale’s questions later and there I was, letting go of something and allowing a healing process to begin.
ANOTHER HEALING PROCESS. Gosh, it feels like it never ends, you know?
For some reason I brought up my frustration over my son waking up so unbearably early (he gets up anywhere between 4:30 and 6 am), and my deeper frustration over why I can’t just accept that and be an adult and start my day. I shared how I struggled with wanting to be up at all, and how I would sit Abe on the couch to watch a cartoon, and I would fall asleep next to him.
I had identified my sleep idol a long time ago, but this felt deeper.
I asked myself questions like, “Why am I ok with getting up at 5:30 in the morning to be at the first session of Catalyst, but treat my son waking up like it’s the end of the world?”
I shared with Dale that I love my son like I’ve never loved anyone else. I mean, I would KILL for this kid in a heart beat, no questions asked. I love him so much that I am in constant fear of failing him as a mom.
So how could I possibly feel this way about my son, and at the same time enjoy my life more when he is away from me rather than when he is in my presence?
Why wasn’t I happy to see his little face every morning, regardless of what time it was?
And then Dale’s big question came.
“Do you think you might have some resentments against having a child so early in your marriage?”
You know when you cut yourself really bad, but there are a few seconds before you look at the blood and you think “Oh, it’s probably not to bad.” Then you look down and find an unbelievable amount of blood gushing out, giving you a sense of reality and triggering the emotion. That’s when the crying or screaming or fainting happens.
Sometimes I don’t realize how bloody a wound is, or how deep a sin can be. And then someone asks a question, and all of a sudden my vision is clear, and I can see the blood.
This time, it made me cry. It made me cry so much, right in that room. It made me cry for weeks after that conversation, and is kinda making my cry right now.
Needless to say, the answer to Dale’s question was “YES.”
Abe came along about 4 years earlier than planned. We wanted to have great jobs established. We wanted to have several years of solid “married” time. We wanted to travel, and blah blah blah.
You get the point. It’s so incredibly selfish that I don’t even want to keep typing everything Daniel and I felt entitled to.
But instead, God gave us Abram Isaiah Webb. He gave us Medicaid and food assistance. He gave us a house to live in that looked like someone painted it with pepto bismol and used horse fertilizer to stain the carpets. He gave Daniel a job at a machine shop and me little things here and there. He put us back into Lake City, Florida. He spurred our marriage into honesty and sanctification, and I didn’t like it.
It was all just so overwhelming and so fast that I don’t think I really took it all in and processed it. Up until that day in the conference room, I was treating the past two and a half years, in regards to my family, like I had treated past situations; with bitterness, apathy and repression.
Can I be totally honest right now?
Realizing that you resent your child and even your husband a little bit HURTS LIKE HELL.
So my initial gaze at the wound was not pleasant. It was gross, painful and heart breaking.
But in that moment, a spark ignited.
When heart and wound meet face to face, something begins.
Recognition. Acceptance. Mourning. Repentance. Restoration. New life.
The love and adoration I feel for my son now is unexplainable. What an undeserving gift God would give to me. Not to say I don’t have days where remnants of that resentment are uncovered. The difference now is that I recognize what it is and how to fight it.
Dale encouraged me to share this on my blog. I agreed with him that it was something I needed to share, but I wasn’t quite ready to put it down on the internet yet. The main reason being this: being a mother is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, therefore it is the area of my life I am most insecure. And in those times when I am drowning in that insecurity, I am crippled by the thought that other moms think I’m not cutting it. I also find it very easy to condemn other moms over their decisions, giving me the illusion of confidence. Maybe not always out loud, but most definitely in my thoughts.
So here it is, I’m laying it all bare. I resented my child for coming to early. I resented Daniel for being the other number in the math equation that equaled a baby. I lost my awe for God because I felt like He was wrapping grace and blessing in a very strange box, and I didn’t approve.
I’ve repented of that to God, but I also repent of that to you. If these resentments have ever made themselves manifest in the way I’ve talked or treated you, then I am sorry.
The truth is, I know almost nothing about anything with complete sure-ity (even when I act like I do). But I am starting to discover who God is, which gives me 100% confidence that I am not Him.
He is deep, He is wide, and He knows of and cares for every fiber that makes up who I am.