On purpose, reshaped dreams, and not being a mom.

"Are you a mother?"

A simple, well-intentioned question so that this stranger could wish me a Happy Mother's Day if I answered in the affirmative. Yet, those four words struck a chord in me that I had been tirelessly working for months to silence.

"No, I'm not." Through the most genuine smile I could muster I offered, "but Happy Mother's Day to you! Have a wonderful day!" As she caught her rambunctious child's arm and led him out of my classroom with a look on her face that half-pleaded to leave him, my heart longed to be in her place.

When I was still in my single-digit years people frequently asked what I wanted be when I grew up. I'm sure you can identify. My grandma would throw out lofty goals like doctor, scientist who discovers the cure for cancer, best-selling author. You know, the things people suggest when they're trying to teach you how to dream the biggest dreams you can conjure - when they're trying to teach you how to fly. Except that sometimes this leaves you flightless instead.

"A mom," I would firmly respond.


"Okay, but what else?" I remember my fourth grade teacher asking me.

"I don't know. I like teaching people things, and I like reading and writing too. But I really wanna be a mom."

I was adamant, and determined. I was going to be a mom. That was my purpose. I didn't understand why people were asking me to think of other options.

Now here I sit here 15 years later at 24 years old, not even close to that dream of motherhood. For the past few months I've been fighting to discover my purpose in the in-between. God, show me how to live intentionally with this time you've so graciously given to me. Help me see what you're calling me to in the here and now and help me to live out my purpose for today. That's what a lot of my prayers have sounded like through the past few months as I've tried to live in the space in time between now and when I have a family. It was starting to feel like whatever I could possibly do in this time of waiting was worthless compared to when I am finally a mother and living out the only calling on my life that I've ever acknowledged and accepted.

I just finished reading Freefall to Fly by Rebekah Lyons. In this candid, vulnerable memoir she speaks about her struggle in uncovering her calling and purpose in the midst of a freefall riddled with anxiety, the unknown, and pain brought by trying to meet the expectations of a particular lifestyle.

Rebekah spoke at my church this morning for Mother's Day and she said something that made me feel affirmed and at peace. She said, "Calling is who you already are." In her book she explains that we all have what she calls "birthright gifts." These are talents that are uniquely ours. Talents that God crafted for each one of us when we were still in the womb. She challenges her readers to think back on their lives and identify what birthright gifts showed up over and over throughout their personal timelines. What were the highs? What were the lows? What brought you great joy? What moved you?

She then goes on to add another piece to the equation: the place where your gifts and your burdens collide. What in this world angers you? Saddens you? Is there an injustice that has buried itself deep down in your soul and you know you need to do something about it?

Well yeah absolutely, I thought. But I won't be able to make that kind of impact. I know what my gifts are but I'm not nearly capable enough of cultivating them in a meaningful way. I am not enough.

When we start the search for our gifts, Rebekah suggests that maybe we're afraid of what we'll unearth. Maybe feelings of inadequacy and societal expectations crushed our gifts and now we're afraid of what might be asked of us if we begin to actually use and strengthen them. We're afraid to fail. Sound familiar? To me it does.

Rebekah's poignancy brought epiphany for me. I thought back on the chapters of my life. I examined the highs, lows, tears, joys, and remembered all of the times people told me that I was good at something. All of the sudden, I saw obvious overlaps, and very specific talents became illuminated.

My gifts are writing, empowering children, and empathy for children. The greatest burden and injustice I see in this world is a culture that pushes girls down into a mold that was never meant to shape them. A culture that says you're good but not good enough. You're talented but not talented enough. You're beautiful but not beautiful enough.

I now have this grand vision for what I want to do with that and I'm so excited to start working on it. As a matter of fact, I already have.

I realized that although motherhood is the only calling I've felt that I chose to acknowledge, it is not the sole purpose of my life. Especially not right now. I have this set of birthright gifts that is unique to only myself, and I've identified this burden that I can help to lift through letting my gifts flourish instead of burying them. Through staying in the tension of this freefall instead of running. Instead of escaping and hoping that someone else is capable of solving the problem. That someone else believes in herself enough, that someone else is strong enough, to take on not only her own responsibility but also my own that I've been running from. Except the truth is that there is no one else.

This self-awareness has helped me to see how there are core threads that hold us together for our entire lives. While our roles may change throughout different seasons, our gifts never do. It won't be an easy road and I know that undercurrent of do I have anything to offer that even matters? will creep back in more often than I would like it to. But this time I'm ready to fight for it, and I'm eager to see how my gifts grow and influence.

So thankful today that God reached down and reclaimed the gifts that He gave me to show me who He perfectly made me to be.


Clothed in meaning and peace,
Kelly