Seven

About 5 years ago, I felt the desire to have a few college-aged women in my home about once a week for dinner and conversation. I had benefitted from my pastor’s wife, Julie, opening her home to me and ministering to me and I wanted to do the same thing for these women. In reality, I wanted to be Julie for those women. I put a lot of pressure on those times with those girls. I stressed over them, was always nervous and never relaxed, and very quickly gave up on even trying to have them over.

I was talking to my friend about it and she said to me something that has literally changed me. She said, “They don’t need another Julie. They have a Julie. They need a Keely, and you’re the only one who can be Keely for them.” I have wise friends.

But I’m realizing that I’m not confident in who I am.

I rely on other people to tell me who I am. When someone tells me something good that they see in me, I am always surprised, humbled, confused, awkward, and doubtful. When someone tells me something that I need to work on, I am crushed, humiliated, and always certain they are right. When no one says anything for a while, I wonder if I have any value at all.

Can you imagine the pressure of being my friend, or even worse, being married to me?  I’m sorry, y’all.

When my pastor tells me that I need to continually die to “Old Keely” so that “New Keely” can become more and more my reality, I want him to tell me who “Old Keely” is. I want him to tell me the parts of me that are keeping me from more freedom and more honesty and more brokenness and more hope. I want him to give me the answers, but he won’t. (Wisely.)

I’m trying to constantly remind myself of who the scriptures tell me I am.

I’m navigating the waters of figuring out who I am and being authentic and giving my true self away.