I am too much and not enough.

I am a daughter of educators. From the woods with a stick horse then a real horse. Horses have literally carried my fullest joys and heard my fullest fears and angst.

I am a third culture kid, transplanted halfway around the world.

I am a good girl. A very good girl. I followed the scripts.

A world traveler in a foreign country yet still trapped within the confines of 90s purity culture. Youth group MVP. Make all the right choices and you’ll get God’s best for you.

Mom has a Master’s and has always been high achieving. Egalitarian parents in practice but don’t call them feminists, that’s liberal.

I do the right thing. I have integrity. I choose right even when it’s unpopular. I am honorable. Principled. Reliable. Honest. Hard working. Chaste. Modest. A leader. I have too much self control. Everyone’s favorite. Everyone’s so proud. She followed the rules. She did things right. In the right order. She didn’t question the script.

Except that my intuition did. But nobody ever taught me to cultivate intuition. Now I’m grieving the years of following the rules, and imagining what it might have been like to make some “mistakes.” Be independent. listen to the divine intuition that was always in there.

I am a product of a Christian College. Christian Summer Camps. Christian music. But I draw the line at Bible competitions. 😉

I am affected by depression, anxiety and PTSD. I do my work.

I am a reluctant mother. I love my kids. I don’t love being a mother. I knew I would struggle with this. Nobody believed me. I was right. Thanks, Intuition. I won’t lie to my kids about this.

I’m an exvangelical. I don’t know if hell and damnation are what I was taught they are. I’m fine with the mystery. I’m not fine with the patriarchy.

I’m a worship leader. Like,.. not just a song leader. It’s a gifting. But I relentlessly criticize myself- is my heart in the absolute right place to have integrity on stage and own that? Because I overthink it. And don’t want to be another American Idol wannabe masquerading as a worship leader to get attention. That’s not me. Let’s get in the throne room together. My intuition says yes, my Enneagram 1 inner critic says that’s too prideful.

I am a food eater. I am a gardener. I would rather shovel manure than binge on netflix. I wish I could ride my horse into the sunset and away from this world, and all its pain and horrible politics.

I am terrified of being a mediocre person.

I am a healer by trade and training. Maybe gifting. I will wash the maggots from beneath toes, bathe abscesses, wipe tears, and hold space for the most unloved by our society. And I will relentlessly criticize myself for this, for the possibility that it’s self aggrandizing. But I can’t do anything else. I wish I could go be a ceramicist and rescue horses, but I won’t sell out.

I am an improver. This should be better. This should all BE BETTER. But I’m a counter-type. I don’t know the answers, just that it could all be better than it is. I’m not trying to be a judgy, critical bitch but I am always going to ask hard questions. I don’t hold a lot of space for hope that things will be better, but maybe I actually do since I won’t stop asking hard questions.

I was meant to be raised in a faith tradition that taught prophetic prayer. I was meant to be raised in mystery.

I didn’t learn of James Baldwin, and Audre Lorde, and Bell Hooks, and,. and,. and,. until I was too far into adulthood. I was raised to be suspicious and condescending towards churches that emphasized “social justice.” I hold my parents responsible for this bullshit. But I don’t know how to talk to them about it. Where were they during the Civil Rights Movement??? “Earning all their privileges by hard work and merit alone,” I suppose. I sometimes am intense. I can’t talk to them about this either.

I am a reader. I distrust fiction even though I can enjoy it. Shouldn’t I be learning something? Studying something? What could some story from some author’s make-believe teach me? I’m wrong about this of course. 🙂 I need to read more fiction.

I’m an ambivert. I can recharge alone, and with people. But, jobs that consist of people needing from me all day, and a spouse, and kids that need from me all day has pushed the accelerator down on my introversion. I often just wish I could be left alone these days. This is when I crawl out on the wing towards 9.

I am suspicious of making space for and seeking joy. That in this world we will have trouble, but we are to take heart because Jesus has overcome the world, makes sense to me. I just understand “take heart” to be, “gird your loins, this is one long battle.” I know this is poor theology, it’s protective. Maybe I can be surprised by joy, but I’m hesitant to seek it because no fights are over yet. Many parts of The Body are suffering, so it’s hard for me to relax.

I don’t know if we can experience full healing this side of heaven.

I can be intense. I also know I am a good friend. I’ve been told I have the gift of discernment. I won’t tell you what to do.

I am willing to get before the Pearly Gates and be accused of being too compassionate, too merciful, making the table too big, prying the eye of the needle wider and wider. I’m willing to take that chance, even if I can’t scripture-splain it all.

I’m a ruminator. I will ruminate on whether this list is good enough. Complete. Honest yet humble. True. Was it too long? Was it too much? Should I have not cussed? Should I have been more poetic? Did I go too dark? Did I make myself seem like Eeyore? I’m not Eeyore all the time,… should I go edit this?