My testimony...

In my spirit of new beginnings, I'm going to share my testimony.  I didn't have one for a long time.  I mean, I was "saved" when I was younger, I honestly don't even remember when this happened.  I remember meeting with the preacher in the Ladies Lounge at my church, and thinking this was a big scandal since this was the "Ladies Lounge" where the Ladies Lounged, I don't know, prior to Sunday School or whatever.  It was, and still is, my favorite part of FBC, Laurel.  I also remember asking the preacher how did he know God wasn't a woman.  I remember this and remember my mom being embarassed, but I'm not sure this actually happened.  I could have made it up in my mind.  Wouldn't be the first time.  Or the last. 

I remember being baptised. I remember my GA teacher Ms. Susie being upstairs with me, helping me get ready after the baptism took place.  I remember being very concerned that it would hurt my mom's feelings that I chose Ms. Susie and not her, to help me get ready.  I remember trying to turn on the heair dryer, being concerned it would be audible to the congregation, and then ultimately waiting until Ms. Jan sang a solo before we felt safe enough to turn it on.  I'm not sure why my hair being dryed at that time mattered so much, but I remember that feeling every time I see a baptism. 

I remember being a really good kid and a really good teenager, with only a few exceptions.  I was perfect.  I really was.  Perfectionism starts young, people, and my issues started very young.  I was the perfect child, the perfect grandchild, the smart one, the Most Likely to Succeed.  And I thrived on this.  I pushed myself way harder than necessary.  Yes, I was the one who beat herself up about getting a 94 on a test.  I was that girl.

And college was just as great.  I loved BSU and I love, love, loved my friends.  Still do!  I felt very perfect.  I didn't get into trouble much, if at all.  I didn't obsess over every little issue because I felt like my life was on track.  I was also, in retrospect, a bit haughty.  A lot judgmental probably.  I didn't understand how people weren't as together as me.  I struggled to understand people who had actual "testimonies"- people who'd made mistakes, and lots of them.  I didn't get it.  My friends and I didn't make a whole lot of mistakes.  We didn't party, we didn't do drugs or run wild.  Our idea of a fun weekend was renting old movies from the dorm video area downstairs, staying in our pajamas all weekend and ordering food in the entire weekend.  I still think of these times every time I see "Liar, Liar" or "Hope Floats".  I had lots of fun, but I didn't understand people who were out making obviously poor decisions left and right.  However, I kinda envied them.  To hear someone speak about how God changed their life when they were hooked on drugs, or got pregnant at 16, is, in my opinion, much more moving that to hear me talk about how I was seven and I realized my biggest sin was being mean to my sister (sorry about that, Betsy).  Not quite the emotional kick that that some people get when they get close to God. 

Be careful what you wish for.  After college, I started making decisions about my life-- moving to DC to work, moving home, making new friends, starting law school, etc.  Most of my college friends moved on, got married and had kids.  I didn't.  I felt awkward, left out, frustrated.  My perfect life wasn't really going perfect at all.  I didn't have goals.  I went from one job to another, more and more frustrated that I wasn't very good at any one thing.  I had a political science degree.  I loved polisci, but its not very marketable.  That and a music degree will let you sing the National Anthem.  And have you heard my singing voice? 

I look back now and see how far I got away from a relationship with God during these past few years.  I felt like my college friends were so far away from me- we stopped having anything in common and it was a struggle for me not to feel sad and bitter that they had a life I really wanted.  And I was wondering around, trying to figure out what my problem was.  Obviously, my problem was getting away from God.  But I didn't know that then.  I was still a "good" person.  No murders or racketeering charges or anything remotely exciting.  But I wasn't living the way God wanted me too.  I was searching, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.  And my decisions kept coming, each one worse than the next.  I invested in people who weren't positive for me, I searched for meaning in all the wrong places.  I was so afraid of messing up at work that my life became paralyzed with fear.  I didn't know what I was doing, where I was going, so it was easier to just stay in bed and watch Angel reruns.  I was miserable and was pretty miserable to everyone in my life.  I stopped wanting to see my friends and quit returning their calls.  Things I once loved because struggles-- it was a struggle to pretend I was holding it all together.  I didn't have a life I loved and I felt lonely.  Not able to reach my potential.  Scared of making a mistake.  Which, ironically, led to tons of mistakes.  I'd feel so guilty about not calling a friend on their birthday that I'd decide never to call them again.  I'd be so afraid, that, as a lawyer, I wasn't doing a good job with a case that I'd avoid a client's phone calls (again, no malpractice or anything, but not living up to my idea of perfection.)

I once went to the beach with my sister and we were in the ocean swimming.  She was got out of the water and headed to the sand, and I started to follow her.  But the waves kept knocking me down.  And I'd almost be able to get up, but then another wave would come along, and down I'd go again.  At first it was fun, I was laughing.  I mean, I was only a couple feet deep in the water- this wasn't a panic time or anything.  And Betsy was laughing at me, and it was fun and she turned to go on back to our stuff.  And I kept trying to get myself balanced and stand up on my own two feet, but ever few seconds, another wave would come.  This went on for several minutes.  Sometimes I was still submerged from a previous wave when the next one came.  Other times, I was almost standing up. balanced, and walking out of the water when I'd get knocked down again.  I was still laughing and being silly about the entire situation- a grown woman getting pushed about in shallow water. 

But then, it stopped being funny and it stopped being fun.  It became concerning.  As wave after wave hit me, I began to worry I wasn't going to be able to find the bottom.  And then, as the waves kept coming, and I couldn't get up on my own and stay up, I nearly began to panic.  Here I was, just inches from the sand and my sweet sister (who, obviously didn't even know this was going on and has probably never heard this story, so don't judge her for not jumping in and saving me!) and I couldn't get it together enough to get myself balanced.  I was flailing about miserably, and I was doing it while laughing and pretending it was funny, all the while, panic was creeping up in my head.  What a picture I probably was at that time! Eventually, as you can guess by the mere fact that I'm here writing this blog, the waves subsided and I was able to get up and get onto dry land.  I fell onto the sand, exhausted physically and mentally by the ordeal.  It took me a while to shake it off and get back to where my sister was. 

This is kinda the story of my testimony.  In a nutshell.  Or rather, in a big ocean shell.  I kept getting knocked over by life.  Some of the waves were just life.  Life's hard sometimes, right?  Some of the waves were self-induced by me trying to ignore the issues and pretend everything was all right.  Some of the waves were pitfalls I willingly jumped into-- decisions I knew were bad at the time and I went ahead with them.  But the waves kept coming and as soon as I thought I'd conquered one wave and was about to get back up and keep going, the next one would knock me down.  I was ready to just stay down. 

Over the last couple years, I've struggled with depression and sometimes, I just wanted to give it all up.  Not like tie a noose give up, but just give up trying.  Just quit searching.  Luckily, God never gave up on me.  He found me when I couldn't go any further and reminded me that he's my lifeboat.  Even in 2 foot water.  He's got all this, and he changed me life.  Significantly.  I've not wanted to talk about it really, because its very personal.  It's no fun to admit to all the mistakes I've made, all the frustrations I've felt, the ways I've felt I didn't measure up.  And I wasn't a lot of fun to my family and friends during a lot of those times either.  I know they've not found my miserableness to be much of a picnic!  And yet, over time, God has changed me.  Changed my life.  Made my life a testimony.  I still struggle with depression, and I can take a good situation and wreck it with my own agenda in 5 minutes flat.  So, I'm still a work in progress, which is just fine with God. 

I always felt I wasn't enough-- popular enough, fun enough, pretty enough, smart enough, together enough, certainly not rich enough.  And I'm not.  I'm none of those things, really.  I'm not enough... but in God, I'm so much more.  I am deeply loved, despite my horrible decision making skills (seriously, some of my decisions were laughable they were so bad!), despite my inability to figure out what my talents and skills are, and my ability to mess up a situation in a blink of an eye.  I am a daughter of a King.  And right now, thats all that matters.  I'm sure that in a week or two, I'll make another one of my famous dumb decisions, but God will be right there, waiting to catch me.  And that's pretty awesome.  Its my testimony.