You know that feeling when a friend calls to let you know she is in the neighborhood and asks to drop by? Of course you say yes, but up until that very last second when the doorbell rings, you’re shoving all the clutter into the hall closet, hoping she won’t notice the random socks sticking out from under the door. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. See how fine everything appears? I’m an expert at this.
I get this whole gloss-over gumption from my grandma. When my uncle, her firstborn, was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease with a short life expectancy, we gathered as a family to pray for miraculous healing. A few minutes in, with tissues passed and sweet vulnerability thick in the air, my dry-eyed grandma stood up from her place on the couch, clapped her hands, and called the prayer time over. Time to talk about something else. Anything else: “We won’t babble on about this anymore. He’s going to be fine.”
Somewhere along the way, many of us learn that it’s easier to either bury our heads in the sand or sweep anything unsightly or uncomfortable under the rug, to pretend the issues aren’t there. For as long as I can remember, I watched my grandma put on a good fuchsia-lipsticked face, staying resolutely positive and always hyperaware of what everyone would think. This is how she lived her life. And from my perspective, it looked pretty wonderful. She was well liked, social, the most generous hostess, and always touting her family’s newest success to whoever was joining her for coffee on the porch that day. But if she asked you to rub out the tight spot on her back, it was like putting hands to concrete; the muscles were knotted and hard. I wonder if all those years of holding everything together so tightly weighed heavily upon her shoulders, never to be released until the day she went home to be with the Lord. Now, if her back felt like
this, what did the very deepest, most vulnerable hidden parts of her feel like? Burdened, heavy, tangled, ever responsible, bound? I adore many things about my grandma, but this stubborn desire to keep everything “fine” is not one of them.
Over the course of a year, I began to wake up how my pursuit of settled bound me. Like my grandma, I was trading the deeply rooted true peace of wholeness, security, and well-being for shallow appearances. For the first time, I clearly saw my life and my way of being, and I didn’t like it. The covering up and ignoring that had become second nature was now becoming uncomfortable and obvious. The hall closet of my soul was starting to bulge with all the junk I had crammed in there with the hope it would all just disappear. Some metaphorical stray socks were starting to show.
We all have our own struggles, and at the time, I was doing the best I knew how. I don’t need to shame the Emily of this era, but I certainly want to learn from her. What we give our attention to shapes our thinking and trains our affections. I held a lot of unhelpful beliefs that were turning me into a person I never meant to be.
I spent night and day tiptoeing on eggshells, trying to do all I could to make Ryan happy, ever fearful of disappointing him. If I am perfect, I thought, if I keep the house clean and the kids well behaved, if I apologize first and am agreeable and attractive, then he will find me worthy. His approval of me meant everything, and I never felt like I could get enough of it. This, of course, is a terrible way to approach
a marriage partnership and an equally disastrous place to search for true identity. Ryan chose to marry me and love me, and aside from the normal two-people-living-under-one-roof types of disagreements, he never once let on that he was disappointed in his choice to share his last name and life with me. But that didn’t stop me from doubting his love and acceptance.
I avoided any conversation that felt like conflict, even with the people closest to me (especially with the people closest to me), playing that all-familiar game of sucking up my feelings when they were legitimately hurt. I just closed my mouth, dealt with it in my own heart, and moved on as if nothing happened. But deep down, I felt dismissed and unimportant, which fueled the belief that maybe I was
to blame and made me try harder to gain approval and avoid disappointing anyone.
My expectations were out of control. There was no way I could be the kind of mom, wife, friend, and woman I pressured myself to be, and as a result, I felt like a failure in pretty much every way. Even when my husband, kids, friends, and online community told me I was great, the critical inner voice bossing me around was louder and more influential. It told me to get my act together and prove to the world
that I was enough.
Over time, it became impossible to sustain my efforts to create a life that looked good on the outside and hide what wasn’t fine. Worst of all, I didn’t like who I was becoming. In an effort to keep life smooth and settled, I had turned into a self-deprecating control freak, desperate for attention and afraid of failing. Without realizing it, I had forgotten who I truly was, and I was hurting the people I loved the most in the process. Despite what I so desperately wanted to believe, I wasn’t fine. I longed for a settled spirit but was going about it the wrong way. Ryan’s new-year word was much more accurate for what true healing would look like. I needed a shake-up to be set free to find the deep wholeness, lasting peace, and true security I so longed for.
We each have our own mixed-up concoction of beliefs and behaviors that have carried us through life. At this point in the invitation to abundant life, I urge you to deeply look at yourself and your beliefs—to clear away the fog of familiarity and pay attention. Do you like what you see? Are you becoming who you want to become? Are you pursuing what you want to pursue? Are you stubbornly holding on to “fine” like I was? Are you looking to relationships, material possessions, or achievements to prove your worth? How are you genuinely doing?
Don’t forget Jesus’s promise: “Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.” It’s okay to admit you are not fine. In fact, it’s the first step to freedom.
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Your invitation awaits.
Freely and Lightly, by Emily Lex, offers an intentional pathway to experiencing peace, contentment, and true fulfillment through walking with the Lord. With relatable stories and honest reflections, Emily shares how following Him can help you find real rest, freedom from expectations, quiet confidence, and more.
Do you breathe a sigh of hope when you hear this holy and gentle invitation from Jesus? “Come to me… Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
If so, then you are ready to accept his offer to recover and renew your life. Start your journey today. Learn more about the book and how to purchase here.
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