Alert: Vulnerable post ahead. Those who prefer surface posts about butterflies and fudge need not read further.
There are times I feel terribly small. Circumstances that harken me back to junior high, clinging to the cafeteria wall, waiting to be asked to dance (in vain.) Rejection does that to me. Sometimes when I’m most vulnerable, an off-handed comment, never meant to hurt me, sends me into a tailspin. Such was Thursday, May 3rd for me.
I came off a fantastic week at the Scorre conference, but one small incident needled, and then, skewered, me. The circumstances don’t matter much. I won’t go into details, because frankly I bet the people involved had no earthly idea their words hurt.
I retreated into myself. The thought that reverberated: Why is it that I always have to do things the hard way? Why is it never easy?
If you ever want to feel insignificant, become a writer. Or a speaker. Or anyone “out there.” Because the process of “becoming” is a treacherous one, full of heartache and rejection. (And to be fair, there are times of great anticipation and elation. But last Thursday May 3rd wasn’t one of those days.)
So I nursed my feelings of smallness. Eventually I spilled them on a new friend. She listened, empathized, and prayed for me while she drove (thankfully with her eyes open.)
If that weren’t enough (because her prayers were powerful and my tears cathartic), my friend Ann tweeted me this:
Mary, friend… Love you *deep*, sister. My heart echoes yours, beautiful Mary . . .
She also included a link to post that touched me, showed me God saw, and encouraged me to gain perspective. Some of her words were these:
There’s always part of you that wonders if anything you do matters enough.
And there’s always someone who makes sure you know how much smarter and wiser, bigger and better, known and greater they are.
There’s always someone who snatches the horn to sing too loud of their own tens of thousands.
The whole post made me cry. But not in the sobbing, heaving way. In the releasing way. Someone understood. And God prompted that someone to encourage me in the exact moment I needed it. Later she emailed me this quote from Saint Bernard (the man, not the dog):
“It is not hard to be humble in a hidden life, but to remain so in the midst of honors is a truly rare and beautiful virtue.”
So I remember. Small is something everyone feels. Famous folks. Infamous ones. We’re all fragile, needy. Even when we feel tiny and overlooked, He notices. And if we get to that place of fame, it’s only a place to shout His fame anyway.
“Jesus, it’s all about you. I love You. I need You. Thanks for coming alongside me when I felt so vulnerable and small and discouraged. Thanks for sending Your body to encourage me. I needed it. Thanks for dusting me off after so many tears. Thanks for reminding me that being ‘seen’ isn’t the most important thing. It’s making You seen that matters. Amen.”
What about you? When have you felt small? How did God lift you from that place? Leave a comment.
For more hope and humor, visit marydemuth.com