So, last night, I was at work. Exciting as that is. I got home to be greeted by a bouncing, adorable beaming boy, who flung his arms around me with excitement about having mummy back. My husband was marvellous, as he always is.
And then. Then, I had a look on Facebook. And one, tiny, insignificant comment was enough to bring them back.
Do you have them too? Mine are mostly quiet now. But every once in a while, they like to shout, loud. And it’s always one of two things.
“You’re not enough”.
Not pretty enough. Not clever enough. Not achieving enough. Not doing enough. Not a good enough wife. Not a good enough mother. Can’t even hang on past the first trimester, for goodness sake!
“you’re too much”.
Too loud. Too enthusiastic. Too fat. Just – too much.
This isn’t a cry for sympathy. I’m well aware that they’re talking rubbish. But then, that’s the issue really. At the time, it doesn’t seem like it.
There’s a temptation, at least for me, in listening to the voices. At the time, they seem to make sense. And there’s a comfort there in a perverse way, because if I don’t call them the liars they are, there’s an excuse for slumping into my hole.
The other day though, I was at church. It was the first week after my recent miscarriage, so emotions were a little raw. We were singing “I the Lord of Sea and Sky”. It was one of my school songs, sung at every school service – and when your school church is Westminster Abbey, you can probably guess that it was a lot of services, and thus a lot of singing! I can pretty much sing the thing blindfolded now, so I wasn’t, I have to admit, paying too much attention. Until we got to the chorus.
“Here I am, Lord.
Is it I, Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go Lord,
If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart”.
The thing is, it’s perfectly possible for me to listen to those thoughts, the ones that tell me I’m crap, that I’ll never be enough, that I can’t do it. God made me with free will, so I have that choice.
Actually, there’s a world hurting out there. A world where people are broken. And God has put me in it for a reason. And that reason is to be me, in all my beautiful mess. Not better, not different, but me. Using my gifts, talents and passions to their best extent – not fearful, not afraid, not hiding behind the label of “I’m so crap”.
And so, I have a choice.
I can look to the voices.
Or, I can look to the Saviour.
He says different things.
I love you.
I made you.
I’ve got you.
And when I think I’m not enough? I’m made complete in Him. When I think I’m too much? He tells me I’ve got a space in the world only I can fill.
I am His.