You are ENOUGH

You know when people travel, and they collect something from that place to remind them of their trip? For us, it’s coffee mugs. On our first couple of trips it was Christmas tree ornaments, but the idea was quickly erased when we imagined an over-dressed Douglas Fir wearing Empire State Buildings and pukka shells.

Gag!

In the cupboard they rub shoulders; the soup-bowl-of-a-mug bought at eclectic Serendipity Café, a diner style cup breathing Hawaiian flavors into it’s Kauai Coffee Company contents...they clink next to the forever-ago-it-seems-wedding-registry-coffee mugs, near my go-to Coffee Bean mug. A bean’s throw from the coffee maker hang colorful, whimsy mugs, their handles settled on the hooks suspended on the up-cycled wood shelf that my uber-creative husband made.

 

The choice of mugs depends on my morning mood. Tiny yellow with a blue rim from our wedding reminds me of the summer I lived, thus fell in love with Spain, daily ordering their sweet cafes,  petite porcelain holding maybe 3 drops, which is all a person needs from Spanish espresso- one sip and you'll be buzzing all day. 

Bryan typically reaches for the Kauai mug. Why? Take a guess! Beach. Surfing. The man bleeds saltwater.

Therein lies the back-story of the coffee mug appreciation.

Which is why you’ll understand why my curiosity was piqued  at a recent Nurture Leadership Day Retreat.  Each woman took her seat in the cinnamon roll spiral surrounding the sacred middle, where an unassuming  coffee table held dozens of coffee mugs:  some petite, some sturdy, blue, silver, green, some plain, others doused in Monet flowers, some fragile, others a brick.

A spectrum of ages and parenting experience knits our hearts together as moms. The room burst with leaders passionate to pour into other moms at our church through the Nurture Ministry.

Cathi, our wise, spirited facilitator asked us to introduce ourselves and choose one of the mugs we most connect with in this season.

“Are you in a fragile season? Is your plate {or cup} too full? Or, do you feel sturdy? Vibrant? Shattered? Crackly?”

I thought about what God is peeling away in my heart, revealing years of lessons He’s been patiently trying to teach. Raw, but refreshed. Knowing my sin and seeing it in full light is half the battle. It’s the other half of leaning into God’s all-transforming Spirit ~ the messy, process-y part.

One by one, women shared. Tears were shed.
Women are tired. They are giving much and receiving little.
Others are being put back together, while others remain chipped.
More tears. More mess. More beauty being rebuilt.

When it came to me, there was a split-second tug-of-war… how much do I share? How honest should I be? The ‘who cares?’ side won. This is me… What do I have to lose when spilling my story to a room of mostly strangers?

I chose the blue chunky mug. It’s sturdy and God is doing a lot of teaching, prodding, and peeling, and I need all the support I can get. However, with a new Fall season circled in Pre-School, Nurture, working at home, and building The Inspired Window, I sense a refreshment, a peace at what’s next. There’s a lot to hold in that mug, which transcends into the need for lots of creamer, lots of encouragement, lots of looking to God to fill me daily. Lots of room means more of God, and I desperately need that.

The cinnamon roll circled back around, a little soggy from tears, but lighter too, wrapped in a vulnerable glaze.

We were excused in silence, to go off by ourselves and meditate on John 4:4-42

A half hour to read God’s word, to picture ourselves feeling the feelings of the people in the passage, smelling the smells of the ancient day, to hone in on words we seldom take the time to really soak in… and in silence? I can’t remember the last time I sat for 30 minutes in absolute silence.
I’ve grown accustomed to cracker requests, and “where are my Legos?”, or “I pooped” or “Mom, can you turn on some music?” Happy, chatterbox sounds, but still noise.

Cathi encouraged us to also write down labels that represent us.

“Don’t think,” she said, “just write.” And that was it.

So I meditated, I felt Jesus' words, I smelled, and I soaked… I learned more verse-wise in those quiet minutes than I have all summer.

And then came the self-labeled list.

The first ones were easy:

Wife.

Mom.

Friend.

Daughter.
Sister/Sister-in-law

Then my productive bent :

Writer.

Window-maker.
Volunteer

Ummmm???

Then the ugly thoughts:

Insecure

Lonely

Critical

They came pouring out. All the lies Satan loves to circle my mind with, ugly black crows pecking and squawking.

Why does my mind go there? Why, do self-labels take a negative direction? Why am I so hard on myself ~ seeing how I can improve, instead of how I'm trying?
Does that happen to you? What do you think of yourself? Try it. Take 5 minutes, and just write- don’t think- every label that defines you. And as you do, know this…

After the obvious labels, the productive ones, and the negative ones following, God sliced through the silence and surrounded my ears and heart with this:

You are ENOUGH. These labels do not define you. They are not the beginning or the end of you. You, right here, in this moment, are perfectly ENOUGH.

Gulp!

Never again will I label myself. I’m a masterpiece in the works. And so are you.

Grilled veggie salad and Chinese chicken salad was served. Hummus and pita chips, fruit and Italian sodas. We mingled under outdoor umbrellas, talking of husbands at war, sleepless nights, creative mom outlets, and potty training.

Mugs, each of us our own version. Some cracked. Others confident. Some fragile. Others painted in flowers, beauty breathed out.
Each, with our own story. A story changing daily, being told in who we are, not the label we wear.

You are enough.