Become Who You Were Born To Be

Growing up, my birthday always got reinforced by the fact that it was always followed by Mother's Day. And as I've gotten older, it's been more a time to reflect on my relationship with my own mother who, to my knowledge, doesn't read this. Which might be a good thing, heh.

I love my mother. Growing up, she was one of my best friends, and someone I could always confide in. She got me through eye surgeries, psychosomatic stomach ailments (fifth grade was a rough year), puberty, high school, and into college, where the ties changed. Where I used to place my parents as the most important influences of my life, I learned the hard way that they weren't the end-all of knowledge. Surprising, right? I was a late bloomer in that respect. Most teens learn that and have a rebellious period as a result. I didn't get that until I was about 19, and it didn't sink in until I tried to reconcile what my parents believe and what I was taught to believe, with what God said. It wasn't pretty. Sometimes there's no reconciling these things. My heart ached, and I felt gutted by the fact that we were so diametrically opposite. I cried over it. Many times. Still do on occasion. But nothing I've done has changed how they thing, and I pray, fervently, that nothing they do will change how I see God.

Which might not make a whole lot of sense, if you didn't know my parents are very New-Age, relativistic 'honor the god in all of us' sorts of people. They are loving, they are kind. And they are wrong.

When I started college, I thought the way they did. I followed a lot of the ideas they'd learned, meditated, sought comfort in all manner of new agey ideas and practices. And NONE OF IT WORKED. I had a horrible roommate situation as a freshman (as do most of us) and would call home nearly every other day, if not daily, because it was so lonely, so awful. The changes college was going to bring weren't happening. Meditating, using symbols and calling out to spirit guides, none of that helped. I was as alone as I've ever been. I was seeking something that could not be found in what I'd been taught was true. Or relatively true, as my parents don't believe in universal truth.

And then, I was invited to a Christian para-church group. Didn't realize it, but was so starved for friendship, so needy for connection, that I went. And initially regretted it, because I didn't want to be among THOSE people, those CHRISTIANS.

But the pastor said something that just struck me to my very soul. I'd been trying for so long to connect, to truly find God, and I couldn't, not of myself. I needed a bridge, something to span the gap between my frail human self and God's infinite self. And the bridge was Jesus.

Now, my family is mostly Catholic, so we would do the Christmas and Easter thing, but I didn't really get it. Not to the depths that I began exploring it as a college freshman. After going home for Christmas, and coming back to a room change because of my uncongenial roommate (and trust me, that's the nicest thing I could say about that), I asked my friend Laura, one of the RA's, if I could go to church with her. I don't know if she knew how hard it was for me to ask that, for me to open my eyes and ears and heart to hearing something I hadn't believed to be true. I thought it was exclusionist, something that people used to separate themselves and lord over others. I truly didn't get it, for all that I grew up occasionally going to church as a girl scout, or when Mom wanted to get in touch with her Catholic roots, or when my Mamaw wanted to take us kids to church, or when I went to VBS as a grade schooler at the church the next block over, or for all that I read a kid's picture bible. It's like I was storing all this data, but didn't have the program to make it run.

So I went to church, and things were starting to make sense, here and there. I even understood the theological arguments behind predestination and the elect, which came up at a college lunch fellowship. But it still wasn't real. Not really.

My spring break trips in college were very tame by most standards. Mom and one of my aunts and I went to Florida to stay with my grandparents. In a retirement park. Very thrilling stuff. But it was right after I got back from that trip, that I had a life-changing experience. I heard from God directly. I know it was God because a) I wasn't going to get up for the altar call at the event I was at, no way, but somehow I was at the front, and b) I was weeping like I had never wept before in my life. I was transformed.

This all is sort of a long story to explain to you what happened next. I went home, still emotional, still crying, and I called my parents. They'd been my best friends for so long, I thought that maybe they would understand, and that my not getting it before was just me being oblivious, not them failing to share it with me. Because why wouldn't they share with me the greatest news ever?

They didn't understand why I was crying, didn't understand anything I was trying to convey, and told me to call back when I'd calmed down.

That is still the most heartbreaking phone call I've ever had.

It's been over nine years since that night. Since Jesus changed my life. And since my perception of my parents has been forever altered. Especially my mom. We're a lot alike, you see. We've had a lot of the same health problems, a lot of interests in common, read a lot of the same fiction, watch a lot of the same tv and movies. And I've always thought it wouldn't be such a bad thing to be like my mother when I grow up.

Except, my mother thinks my persistence in focusing on Jesus to the exclusion of all else is a phase I'm going through, that I will someday grow out of Christianity, like she apparently thinks she did.

And nothing terrifies me more.

Because I don't want to ever think I don't need Jesus desperately. I would love to be less prone to sin and addiction, but not if it means making something other than Jesus the answer to all life's problems. I don't want to think crystals, or spirit guides, or dowsing, or aromatherapy, or meditating, or energy healing will do the work that Jesus did on the cross. I don't want to find something to appease my spirit for a time, when I can have a Redeemer fill the God-shaped hole inside me. When I DO have a Redeemer who's already filled the God-shaped hole inside me.

And one of the saddest things is that there's nothing I can say to my family to change their thinking, because a prophet is without honor in their hometown. But I can trust and hope in God's plan for them. I let go of control years ago, now if I can only let go of how much it hurts at times.

But for now, I'm growing to accept that I have a lot in common with my mother, better or worse.