Layers

Tonight in our RA meeting we talked about layers and we made these little "Layer Jars." You know, those things you used to make in elementary school where you take a clear jar and pour the layers of sand into it to create a cool design. There are a lot of parallels that one can draw from our little object lesson, and we talked about several different aspect of layers - good and bad reasons that people layer their lives, layers in our own lives, layers in the lives of girls in our halls, how to dig into those layers, etc. The point that stuck out to me though was the idea of layers in my own life, and an off-hand comment that Pam made about the colors we chose for the layers in our jars.



These are pictures of the layer jar I made. As we were all sitting there looking at each other's jars, Pam made some funny comments about them and about the colors we'd ended with. Kristy's was yellow like the bright, happy, sunshine-y person that she is; Madi's was orange, a deeper, rich and slightly less in-your-face joy, etc. Inadvertently, I realized, each one of us had chose an ending color that in some way really did describe that outer layer of ourselves - the one that most of the world sees and the one that tends to define us.

Mine was brown. It's a really normal color, it's not bright and flashy, it's the color of the everyday things we see all around us. It's dirt, it's tree trunks, it's rocks, and it's a river at flood stage. It's a little dull, it's not the first thing people notice. Way too often I realize that I'm comparing myself to the sunshine people and the and the rainbow people and the blue sky people, and I always come up short. I'm not a super gifted teacher or speaker; I'm not the one that the kids always gravitate towards; I'm not outgoing or dynamic like all the good youth leaders I know; I don't have a unified, fun-loving hall like the other RA on my floor; I screw up so often, and it always seems like I'm surrounded by people who have it all together. Gosh, I admit it, a lot of times I do feel like dirt - ordinary, unimportant, and altogether substandard when compared to the things around me. But I forget that dirt has its place too. How would flowers grow without the dirt? How could little kids make mud pies without dirt? How could people make adobe bricks without dirt? It's not flashy and it's not dynamic, but it has its place and it serves a purpose. God has made me EXACTLY who He wanted me to be. At this particular point in my life, I'm not supposed to be the "sunshine girl" who is dynamic and outgoing, or the "blue sky girl" who the little kids all love and cling to, or the "rainbow girl" who always has the right words to say at just the right times. God will grow me and stretch me in the ways that He needs me to be grown and stretched in order to fit His purposes in His timing. Yes, I think that He's called me to youth ministry, and in these moments where I'm being honest and vulnerable, that scares me out of my mind. When I look at myself, I don't see someone who is a good candidate for leading teenagers. I see dirt and rocks and tree trunks and muddy rivers. But God sees who I can become if I'll just submit all my "brown-ness" to Him and let him mold me into something He can use. Because hey, clay is brown too, and the good thing about clay is that it's easily moldable. Oh Jesus, please let me be brown clay that You can make into something useable.

The second thing I thought about as we were making our jars, was about those layers beneath the brown. Getting to those other colors requires some digging, some time, and some effort before someone can really see what's under the initial brown on top. I started wondering: Do I really have people in my life who even know that there's greens and blues down there? Do I have people in my life who know that there are even more brown patches beneath the surface? As I thought about it, a couple people came immediately to mind - Alise and Sean and Danny - but there's definitely no one in my life here in Salem that knows my deeper layers. Those three people that I already mentioned mean the world to me, and it's a comfort to know that they are always only a phone call away and they would do anything in their power for me if I needed it, but at the same time, they're not HERE. They're in CR and SoCal and they're not walking through everyday life with me during this season. That's definitely not their faults, or anyone else's; it's just how life is. But I am lonely. It's funny how I can live in a building with 90 other young women and still feel so utterly alone sometimes. There's no one here who really knows me, who knows what makes me "tick," who knows what I'm passionate about, who knows what I struggle with, who knows ME at my core. And that, my friend, really sucks. If there's anything I re-realized in these past few days, it's how much I value relationships. I desperately want to know people and be known by others. I want to really live in community and share my life with others. I need to be held accountable and be spurred on in my walk with the Lord. I want to be known. But that seems like an overwhelming request. How do I go about that? How can I have that sort of relationship with someone here, at school, in the insanity that is my life?

So many questions. But questions are good. You can't find answers until you first ask the questions.

Mood: Contemplative

Music: None