What’s My Superpower?

My family loves Disney, and our latest fascination/obsession is with the movie Encanto. A miraculous house grants powers to the family members who live there. For some reason, the heroine, Mirabel, isn’t given a gift or power when she comes of age, and the story tells of her search to find meaning in life as just an “ordinary” person.

Her sisters feel a different kind of pressure as they seek to live up to the gifts they’ve been given.

Isabela sings, “What could I do if I knew it didn’t need to be perfect?” in “What Else Can I Do?”

Louisa sings, “I’m pretty sure I’m worthless if I can’t be of service,” in “Surface Pressure.”

Don’t we all feel this way? Finding out who we are is a task for the young, but it is also something we face as we age and our circumstances change. If I retire, and I’m not a doctor anymore, who am I? Now that my daughters have all begun their own beautiful lives and I am not called upon to mother them every day, who am I? And doesn’t the world call us worthless if we can’t somehow be useful to society? Ouch.

As I shared this sense of shifting identity with one of my daughters, she said, “But you didn’t mention your Christian identity.” And she was right.

My identity in Christ isn’t based on what I can do or how perfect I am. It’s based solely on God’s love for me. He doesn’t care that I’m not perfect or strong or even useful. He knows me better than anyone else and loves me anyway.

So, my friends, if you are struggling to claim your identity, or find your gift, or identify your power, remember this:

Your identity is God’s beloved child.

Your gift is his unfailing and unconditional love, and your power is his love within you.

Though the mountains fall away and the hills be shaken,

My love shall never fall away from you

nor my covenant of peace be shaken,

says the Lord (Isaiah 54:10).

I’d love to hear your comments below, and if you know someone who could use this encouragement, please share.

This Storm Will Pass

God is with us in even the worst storms……

It is raining. Hard. The wind blows horizontal sheets of rain that bombard the window like plaques of pebbles. Thunder rattles the walls and the wind gusts through unseen cracks in the door jam. Lightening flashes across the sky, showcasing the trees as they bend and dance in the wind and lighting up the river that now streams down my driveway.  

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On the Love of a Puppy

Last summer I babysat my best friend’s ten-week-old German Shepherd.  I had forgotten how hard it is to take care of a puppy, and if you have too, let me remind you.

He was not yet housebroken, so I was careful not to trip in any wayward puddles. At any sign of an impending squat I quickly snatched him up and raced outside to the grass.  His sharp little puppy teeth innocently found their way to every single drawer knob and rocker bottom in my house, despite my attempts to guide them to things less dangerous to chew. He raced like a victorious bull through the screen door that eventually fell in surrender around him. He shredded not only the newspaper that was supposed to help him learn housetraining, but every single toy that his owner sent with him. My floors looked like cotton fields with all the white fluff scattered across them.

And yet, he was so darn cute. My voice was strong in the moments when I scolded him, “No!” but he was quickly forgiven as he breathed puppy breath into my face and licked me with his happy tongue. He chewed my flip flop then looked at me with soulful apologetic eyes that melted my heart. Who cares about flip flops? I thought to myself. His clumsy paws got tangled in my feet, and before I could even reprimand him, I laughed as we ended up on the floor. And when he finally fell asleep and snuggled at the foot of the bed, I smiled at the sound of gentle snoring and little legs prancing in happy puppy dreams.  I fell in love with this dog – and he wasn’t even mine. Imagine how I’d feel if I was the one who chose him out of the litter to call my own.

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My Fickle Faith

Last week’s wind storms wreaked havoc at my house. Lots of damage, loss of power, and on top of that, a little fender-bender car accident. Today I pick up the pieces, literally. There are downed twigs and large branches all over my yard, not to mention the two fallen ninety-foot-tall pine trees stretched across my driveway.

And even though last week I said, “Thank you, God, that those trees did not hit my house or my car!” today I’m thinking: How do I even start to clean up this mess? Continue reading →

For Good

This past Sunday was the third anniversary of Neil’s death. I had the fortune to be on vacation for the three days prior, but drove home in the ice and snow and rain of bad winter weather. Thinking that it would be unfortunate for me to have an accident on that particular day, I drove white knuckled for several hours in silent concentration. When I realized the weather had improved but I hadn’t relaxed, I pulled over to regroup.

Refreshed with a new cup of coffee and improved visibility on the road, I treated myself to music on my I-pod. Continue reading →