I was talking with a friend this morning who lives in the Netherlands. It’s been a long time since we’ve connected and it really encourages me to see her. She’s a valued business colleague and friend, rocking her sphere of influence and making waves in the online world. Her generous heart is always serving her students and contacts over and above any other digital business owner I know. She truly is an inspiration to me.

 

But we couldn’t be more different.

 

She loves international travel, boating, hotels, cruises.

She leaves her children with her nanny and often finds herself moving from airport to airport.

She loves bright colors.

That girl always has the perfect red lip.

 

Part of me…a tiny bit of me…wants to be like her.

 

There was a time, now some years ago, that I felt as though I had to be like someone else, particularly like those who inspired me.

I would reflect on the characteristics and traits that they possessed and that I lacked.

 

They were funnier than I was.

More extroverted.

They seemed to live a life of ease and fluidity (while I’m always in my head about things).

 

I think role models, mentors, and women that motivate us can be so helpful to us as we navigate various seasons of life. They can give us a place to move towards, a container of a model in which to inspire us in our daily lives.

 

But I think there’s a balance there that we need to recognize. I think that being inspired by someone can easily lend itself to wanting to be like someone.

 

And that we can never be.

We are each made unique, highly individualized, with no other creature walking the earth that is made just like us.

 

Psalm 139:13-14 ESV

 

I think my soul knew it (and knows it now) but I’m not sure that mind truly captured it (or can really get it even now).

He made me to be me, to have only the impact and influence and service that only I can provide in the way that I can provide it.

 

He made me to love in only the way that I can love.

 

Why do I have a hard time embracing that?

Why do we as women, as mothers, feel that we need to be thinner, funnier, more athletic, better cooks, better…well, whatever…than the next woman?

 

Why is it hard to come to an understanding of our own belovedness, right where we are and exactly how we were made to be?

 

Is it social media? All the beautiful IG images?

Magazines? Movies?

Books?

Culture?

 

Or could it just be that we don’t believe what the Lord tells us about who He is?

And how He feels about us?

 

So for me, here’s the reality—I’m earthy, organic, and love the earth. My closet is filled with the colors and fabrics that reflect nature—the hemps, linens, creams, olives, browns.

I love trees and the stories they hold.

My heart is full when I harvest the kales from my garden for an evening salad.

I am happiest outside amongst rustling branches and singing birds.

I’d rather chew glass than wear a bra.

I heal just about everything with coconut oil and cypress.

Mountains and streams call to my soul.

Bees follow me everywhere (maybe it’s because I wear a lot of basil oil?). Like, legit everywhere.

My heart wants to love all things (sometimes this is great and other times…not so much…like the time I brought home too many dogs and wore my husband down with my animal adoptions).

 

My friend inspires me, but I will never be like her. I can only be like myself.

 

In my youth, I often wondered why I didn’t fit in to places or feel a part of a group of people. They didn’t seem to be different than I was, yet there was a separation that I always felt, one that I could never exactly figure out how to breach.

 

It took me decades of searching,

of being refined,

of evaluating my own sinful heart,

of grief and sorrow,

of joy and perseverance,

to come to a quiet knowing of myself, an acceptance of who the Lord says that He is

And who He made me to be.

 

When I stopped trying to be like others, feeling as though I needed to live in the shadow of another prettier, funnier,

more influential,

more charming,

better-dressed woman,

I began to find rest.

That period of quiet in my life allowed me to begin to learn and come to an understanding (although this too is still a work in progress, an evolution of moving growth) of my own belovedness. It was then that I could actually see who the Lord created me to be

(He did indeed design me to love)

and how I fit into life.

 

I’m walking through a season of uncovering my own belovedness. I don’t quite understand all of the moving pieces.

But it’s beautiful.

 

As I write this, I sit outside.

The weather is cool, but the sunshine is bright.

I love sunshine.

I sit outside at our large farmhouse table under the pine trees that have been here so much longer than I have.

I love the sound of trees. It may sound crazy to some, but they too have a voice.

A butterfly hovers over my head.

How delicate it is.