Who am I?

When I sat down this week to start writing about graduates and graduation a lot of ideas popped into my head. I thought about writing something about the importance of always being a student, seeking to learn and grow from every person that you meet. Though an interesting idea, it didn't quite feel right.

Then I considered writing an open letter entitled "dear graduates," with advice and tips and tricks for navigating the world outside of the four walls of school. This idea felt better than the first but the words just didn't flow, a clear indication that I was on the wrong track. 

All of that idea tossing and brain storming led me to what I'm writing about today, identity.

I don't know about you but all of my life I've been heavily defined by and tied to titles related to my education. For all of my K-12 years I was the home schooled kid and that was a badge that, once I stopped being ashamed of, I wore proudly. My post secondary track led me to a small all women's liberal art's school and for those four years I was the college student attending a strong all women's college. It was a time in my life that I was so proud of and shared with others quickly.

After finishing college I joined the global education program Up with People and for years it was the first thing I would share about myself when meeting new people. The fact that I got to travel the world performing, volunteering and living with host families made me feel like my life was such an adventure.

Then before I knew it, I wasn't connected to any of those things anymore. I was living in Denver, working in an office and staying in my host family's basement. 

My life it seemed, had gone from unique to unique to all of a sudden strikingly average. My identity was so tied to my circumstances and how they made me stand out from a crowd that when my circumstances became seemingly normal I felt like I as well had gone from someone that was special to someone who just blended in with the crowd. 

My first few weeks of living in Denver were harder than I imagined they would be. As I  began to settle into a routine; wake up, work, workout, sleep, repeat, I also began to settle into a cycle of self doubt and lack of identity.

"Who am I if I'm not the world traveler?" I thought to myself one day as I boarded a plane from Denver to Pennsylvania to visit my family.  Whenever I would come home to visit, my dad would always proudly introduce me to his friends as "his daughter, the world traveler,"  I was terrified at the thought of how boring his new introduction may potentially be. 

That weekend when we went to church, I walked into the building with my parents and immediately from across the room one of their friends, with a huge smile on their face, came bounding in our direction. They greeted my parents warmly and then turned my way and said "Is this the daughter that you've been telling us about?" and then wrapped me in a warm bear hug. As I stood there, hugging a stranger I was taken aback by the reality of my identity. 

To my parents, regardless of where I was studying, living or traveling I was always first and foremost their daughter. 

It's so easy for us to tie our identity and our worth to the things that we do and the circles that we run in. Do you find yourself doing that? Introducing yourself and first mentioning where you work as if our jobs are able to give people an all encompassing snapshot of who we really are. As if the fact that you're loving, kind and compassionate are secondary to the fact that you work for a non-profit or a large corporation.

Ted Dekker once said "Life consists of cycles of remembering and forgetting and I, like you, still forget far too often...and in that forgetting, my view is clouded once more until I remember who I am and surrender who I am not." 

That day, at church with my parents, I was reminded of who I am. I began to tie my identity to the factors that will always remain and not to the circumstances that are constantly ebbing and flowing through my life. I began to stop looking to my job, my friends and my situation to tell me who I am and started to embrace the truth of who God says that I am.

I willingly began to surrender who I am not and with a peaceful heart rested in the truth of who I am. 

Wendy and Rey: A love story.

"In the flush of love's light, we dare be brave and suddenly we see that love costs all we are, and will ever be. Yet is it only love which sets us free."

Love is scary. It's portrayed as this big boisterous monster that swoops into your heart unexpectedly and makes you fall head over heels for someone. It's described as the naked child with the bag full of arrows shooting the first person his eyes land on and his stupid arrows can reach.

We grow up with these images of love in magazines, television shows and movies and it all seems so easy and so unbelievable. They make love look so doable but also so unsustainable, it happens all at once and then the movie is over but you don't see what happens next.

What happens when the little quirks that they loved become the small things that they're starting to hate? What happens when their core values don't match? What happens when they get into another argument about the same old thing and their tempers get the best of them? What happens when the magic wears off?

I don't see a lot of movies that portray those things. Films that get to the heart of life and not only show you the bells and whistles but also the thorns and spurs. I didn't learn the ABC's of lasting love from movies but I did learn it from my parents.

It wasn't until recently that I became aware of all of the lessons that I've learned about love from watching my parents choose to love each other everyday of my entire life. My parents have been married for 36 years and I've been lucky enough to be an eye witness for 27 of those lovely years.

If I use my parents as my main example I can tell you that love is so much more than just an hour long movie or a lifetime special. Love is choosing to quit your job and live off of one income to home school seven children and make sure that they have the best education possible. Love is having patience and being intentional about being kind and using thoughtful language even after working long exhausting days.

Love is a choice. Love is choosing, after 36 years, to still go on adventures and to still do the things that made you fall in love in the first place. The real thing, the 'we've been married for 50 years' kind of love, does not just happen with the flick of cupid's wrist. Real love takes work, it takes effort, it requires that you die to yourself and put the well being and needs of that other person before your own and that they do the same for you.

The stories that I see in movies and on TV pale in comparison to the romance, commitment and love that I've seen my whole life in my parent's relationship.

I used to think that I didn't know what love was. I thought that I would be scared when I found it and that being in love meant that I had to lose pieces of myself. None of that is true. I know what love is. I know love because I've been surrounded by it my entire life. I know love because God goes out of his way to saturate me in his daily. I know love.

So whenever I get to that point in my relationship where all of my daily decisions lead me to falling in love, I'll know what to do. I won't run, like I always thought I would but rather I'll continue to make choices that nourish and build our love. I'll embody the patience of my father and the thoughtfulness of my mother and create a life that teaches my children what a real and authentic love story looks like.