This past week I have been strangely disappointed. Disappointed in a lot of things, but mainly in myself. How many people look for, search for, yearn for their place in the world and actually find it? How many have found their true identity and are pleased with what it looks like? Well, those two questions are why I am strangely disappointed in myself. What is my place? Where is my place? What will I look like when I get there? Have I already seen myself and scoffed at the reflection because I was looking for more? That is truly the answer isn't it? More. There is never enough. More. This constant quest for more is what leads to the circular reasoning of never getting to the place I have already been yet cannot find again.
What drives this? Why am I so afraid to be who I really am? Do I really know who I am? There are so many hats that I want to wear, so many that really do fit and so many that look so cool. Have you seen "You've Got Mail" with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks? That is my favorite movie. One of the lines that I love the most is when Kathleen, Meg's character, is talking to Joe aka NY152, Tom's character, and says: "Once I read a story about a butterfly in the subway, and today, I saw one! It got on at 42nd and off at 59th, where, I assume, it was going to Bloomingdale's to buy a hat that will turn out to be a mistake, as almost all hats are." Where am I going with this? Well, I have wondered a lot this week about if some of the hats that I am wearing are mistakes? Am I still searching for that sale at Bloomingdale's where I can buy yet another one that will also turn out to be a mistake?
Don't take this the wrong way, as I am sure some of you are. These hats don't involve my family per say; these hats involve me and choices I've made and possibly will make. For instance, do I want a Raspberry Beret or will my floppy ol' sun hat work just fine? In other words, do I need a prestigious position in life, and all that comes with it or is the one where I have the honor of raising three precious little girls and teaching them to find their perfect hats in which they will get to pass on, so on and so on fit just fine? The first one looks great, the price is unbeatable on the sale rack, but once you put it on, you realize it costs more than you have, but sadly all sales are final. The chintzy looking straw hat has a whopping price tag yet pays you back daily.
Then there is my kingdom hat. This hat is ever more precious, because it is really a crown. You see, I know that God loves me, He sent Jesus for me (you too!). You may be wondering why I am being pompous enough to talk about a crown, well, God is the king and as his child that makes me a princess and all princess' get a crown! Sadly, I haven't been wearing mine. Oh, I'm sure it is breathtaking and I know He wants me to have it. I don't even have to really pay for it; he did that for me. But I have only been looking at it. Why? First, my Raspberry Beret is too big for the crown to fit on top of and too tight for it to fit under. Second, because it is so heavy. Heavy how? I've made it so by running around in circles looking for, searching for, yearning for something that is mine to grab and put on. And this is all because I am scared. I am afraid of what this hat will require of me, of the person it will make of me. Of the semi quasi-comfort zone I've made for myself.
Why a semi quasi-comfort zone? Because I'm really not living comfortably in my anger, my bitterness, my jealousy, my pride, my fears, but I'm living this way because these hats have fit for so long. They are my beanies, my ball caps, my snow hats. They are the hats that have "protected" me with their false sense of security. However, I want to fly freely and flutter about; hopping on at 42nd and getting off at 59th were I will most assuredly place the crown exactly where it should be because all gifts should be accepted with gratitude and a smile, and I really didn't need to go to that sale at Bloomingdale's anyhow.