Last weekend, Perry and I took our oldest to her first dance. A middle school dance…

 

 

Yes, I remember middle school, that amazingly awkward age where some kids are thought to be the coolest ever and others seem to be destined to be lifelong losers. At least, that’s the way it seemed. And I’ve been nursing this little fantasy that because we’re homeschooling and most of her friends are at church and in smaller groups that we might skip this lovely social experiment and show up on the other side of puberty, mature and unscathed. Yeah, right.

Well, the dance was a combination of kids from different churches, but I knew a bunch of the girls that she knew would be there. And sure enough, when we got out of the car, one of them was arriving with her mom. Ok, good start. They hugged in the parking lot and we headed for the building. As soon as we approached the red “carpet” walkway, a pack of girls from our church swarmed out. The one in the lead ran ahead, hugged the other girl walking with us, pivoted on her heel and headed back inside. And my daughter? She just watched quietly and stood near us. Then the girls circled back around, chatted with each other and the parents standing around, and included my daughter as they walked into the party. After she got inside, one of her closest friends flew out of the crowd, hugged her, and they ran off to the food table.

 

 

All’s well that ends well, right? I guess so. I mean, after I put my claws away and held my husband back, it all went fine. Both of us wanted to go bear-mom on those girls! But we both know that she has to learn to navigate those situations on her own, in her own way. And she is, little by little.

 

Why am I writing about this story this week? I believe that most of us remember those tough social interactions and the cruelty of youth, and I think that we carry them with us. And if we’re not careful, they hold us back from forming relationships. When we learn early on that we aren’t the most popular or interesting or beautiful or smart in the eyes of our peers, it takes some of our confidence. Then we hold back in our conversations, wondering how we are measure up. That beating we take in our youth keeps us from reaching out, from offering ourselves wholly to the people we meet. We are afraid. Afraid we won’t be liked, that who we are isn’t enough, that what we have to give isn’t worth anything.

Sometimes it stops us from reaching out at all. I have been going through some career coaching sessions recently, and part of the teaching has been about building relationship with people though conversation. The concept is that you can reach out and talk to someone who is involved in an area you want to go, and that you can build a relationship with them through that conversation. Anyone. Now, I have to tell you, that thought scares me to pieces. My mind immediately finds all sorts of reasons why that person wouldn’t want to talk to me – they’re too busy, I’m not important enough, they have more interesting things to do. Then, if I did talk to them, I wouldn’t have an intelligent word in my mouth to say. What could I possibly have to offer?

 

 

Can you hear the 12 year old me talking? Oh yeah, I remember middle school. Here’s the truth: I’m not in middle school anymore. I’m not 12, and neither are most of the people I’m interacting with. Yes, some people are petty and small, but most are doing the same thing I am – working hard, trying to take care of their families, and doing the best they can. And most of us want to help others and make some sort of impact in the lives of those around us. So if someone asks me for my time and I can give it, I do. So why wouldn’t that be the same when I ask for someone else’s time?

The other truth is this: I have plenty to offer. And so do you. We have ideas and thoughts and hopes and love and gifts to give away.  Sometimes others will see your gift and be drawn to you. Other times they will not. The possibility of rejection is what feels so risky. But whether someone else appreciates your beauty isn’t what makes you worthy. Your value comes from what lives inside you, from the unique loveliness that is you. It was there when you were 12, it was there when God created and formed you, even before you’d ever had a thought or spoken a word. Out of 7 billion people on this planet, you are the only one made like you. And so, you are here to give that gift away to the world. You may have buried your gifts and forgotten what makes you precious and beautiful. Some have covered themselves with a thick crust so that they can’t be hurt anymore by the world. But that doesn’t change the light that lives in you – it just needs to be uncovered.

 

 

Now, everything ain’t for everybody. You may share your light with someone and it’s not appreciated. That’s ok. It doesn’t mean you’re unworthy – it just means there’s someone else for you to share with. Remember those 7 billion people? Some of them need exactly what you are, what you have to offer. So offer it up! Share your thoughts, write your story, laugh out loud. Call the person you think is too important take your call. They just might want to hear what you have to say!

I like the image of this world of humans and other beings as a beautiful tapestry, each of the threads of our spirits and lives woven together to make a masterpiece. Individually we are too close to get the whole view, but if we could step back the view would be breathtaking. Can you imagine it, the intricacy and majesty?  I like to think that even though I can only imagine a fraction of the wonder and glory, the great cloud of witnesses from Hebrews 12 can see it all. And they are cheering us on. So raise your kids, serve your clients, write your book, give your talks, hug your friends, teach, love, and reach out. We need you!

 

 

Have you discovered your own beauty yet? How are you offering that gift in the world? Please share in the comments below – you may inspire someone who needs you!