On Not Being the Best Version of Myself

Old words for a new day, a spirited dream, various name tags, and exceptional extras.

The last three weeks were full of ups and downs, new memories, laughter, a few scary moments, and deep joy. Ethan and I returned safely from our 3000-mile trek — exhausted with full hearts. In honor of rest, I am sharing an old piece from a writing group I was a part of several years ago.

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A brief history

My sister-in-law Rachael founded a non-profit in 2018 called Oh Lord Help Us (OLHU) at the time. Starting in 2014, she used several avenues to enact her vision of helping women including a blog, handmade jewelry, devotionals, and more. The endeavor that gained the most traction — Hope and Vine — is still equipping young women who have aged out of foster care to live with purpose and freedom. I encourage you to read more about their mission and support their artisans by snagging some Christmas gifts from their shop!

My favorite fierce photo of Rachael ♥︎

My first submission for the Oh Lord Help Us blog posted seven years ago this week. I hope you enjoy this entry from 2017.¹

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Hello, my name is Emily.

Everybody loves a good story, and I would like to share a short tale as an introduction for my life.

The dream

I was running through a banquet hall attempting to elude a man pursing me. I felt sick, realizing there was nowhere else to run. I had to fight. Finding knives on a nearby table, I hurled each one at my attacker. He deflected my attempts with plates and large metal bowls which he then launched at me. We ended up in hand-to-hand combat and I was outmatched. He pinned me against the wall, and I instinctively anticipated his “signature move” which was to slowly push a knife into my thigh. I suspected he thought the wound was mortal because he lowered me to the ground and walked away triumphant.

The scenes changed and it was dusk. I was outside in a harvested wheat field leaning against a wooden fence. I wondered if I looked pale or if I would soon lose consciousness from my injury. Looking down at my feet I expected to see blood pooling on the ground, but there wasn’t any. My leg was barely bleeding, though I staggered when I began to walk. I felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps my wound just needed to be mended. Birds started singing as I made my way back to the main house. I knew I wasn’t going to die from the stabbing, but I would have the limp for life.

That was when my tweeting birds alarm fully pulled me from my dream.

What’s in a name

I like remembering people’s names. A pet peeve of mine is when I’ve met someone on several occasions and they still don’t know my name. Or worse, they keep re-introducing themselves. Really? Am I that forgettable or are you just so important that you can’t even? I understand if we’ve only crossed paths once or twice, but after that second time the grace period fades and I fully expect my name to be remembered — or at the very least, my face.

Wouldn’t it be great if we all walked around with those Hello My Name Is stickers on? Only in addition to our name it declared our self-assigned labels in bold.

Hello My Name Is: MEMORABLE

In 2014, my old softball coach visited our church. When I introduced him to my kids he said, “I’ll bet you’d like to hear some stories about your mom, wouldn’t you? I’m sure she tells you how perfect she was. You want some dirt on her?” They bounced up and down, eagerly agreeing while my mind raced to think of what he could be referring to. Then he laughed and said, “I got nothing. She was pretty angelic.” I wore my ACCOMPLISHED sticker in that moment.

I'm the Kids Director at our church. On Sunday mornings I have a front row seat to all the families coming through the doors. When I see a mom with young children looking weary, my first thought is to commiserate and tell her what did or didn't work for me when my kids were little. But of course, if that were enough I could easily write a winning self-help pamphlet to leave on the resource table.

Hello My Name Is: PROBLEM SOLVER

At my core I do whatever it takes to avoid rejection. If I make myself useful then the expectation is that I'll be wanted. I'd argue that we frequently place our worth in feeling needed which can fall apart quickly if someone doesn't utilize what we’re offering. On a grander scale, what happens when we realize God doesn’t need us to bring about His plan?

Our worth doesn’t lie in what we can provide. We weren’t created to be the best version of ourselves but rather to represent, reflect, and enjoy our Creator. God doesn't need us to accomplish His plan, yet He invites us into the redemption story. And His Word tells us who we are, what we are to do, and where true satisfaction is found: "You make known to me the path of life, in Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore" Psalm 16:11, ESV.

Instead of presenting what we wish to be known as, let's display what is most true.

Hello My Name Is: IMAGE BEARER

So God created humankind in His image, in the image of God He created them; male and female He created them.

Genesis 1:27, NRSVA

From timid to lion-heart

I don’t know about you, but it’s taken a seriously long time to grow into my name. Emily: industrious, disciplined, striving. Well, the striving part resonates because organization is laborious. I recently scratched the surface of being more self-disciplined because my husband got a job that moved us 600 miles from my hometown.

I never considered myself an adventurer; I stuck with what felt safe. But when we uprooted our family, I had two choices: become a recluse in one of the most densely populated cities in the U.S. or find community. We hadn’t even begun to settle in our new home when the heavens opened dumping three feet of snow. The blizzard created opportunities to meet several of our neighbors while shoveling snow every two hours. I hadn’t met that many people on any street we’d lived on before! Once the kids were settled in school, I had more free time on my hands than I’d never known. Out of my normal comfort zone — and strangely lionhearted — I signed up for a ladies’ Bible study at our new church and met some people. Life took off from there.

A lot has changed in the last couple years. I took a job in ministry and our family has suffered multiple blows. I wonder if it’s linked, like my position put a target on our backs. At times I feel like I’ve prayed all the prayers, read all the books, said all the things — and the enemy still advances.

My dream really captured my journey as a follower of Jesus. I usually run from conflict, but some battles must be fought and they’re usually messy. Escape rarely happens without wounds and lingering scars. Now I turn and fight, expecting the blows the enemy thinks will wreck me, fully confident my life is in God’s hands.

In Lion & Lamb, Brennan Manning writes:

All you may have are your wounds and your last shred of hope. But with the risen victorious Jesus at the center of your life, you win. That was all the early Christian church had against Jerusalem, Rome, and Athens—and the Christians won. That’s not rhetoric; that’s history. They had only Jesus, and we keep thinking that we need something else.

Only Jesus.

Thanks for reading my blast from the past. Don’t forget to check out Hope + Vine. There are several ways to support their mission through the shop, financial contributions, and The Widow Project.

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Exceptional extras

Music, rich food, words to contemplate, and a treasured moment.

The tunes

Ethan has been growing his CD collection and we listened to the whole lot on our trip. Here’s a compilation of songs from the albums we enjoyed on the road.

The menu

I asked my mother-in-law what she’d like me to cook for her during our stay as thanks for hosting us (twice) and accompanying Anna to her surgery follow up. She chose this Shepherd’s Pie recipe I’ve been making for over a decade by Rachel Ray. I fix regular mashed potatoes for topping as opposed to the recipe’s version, but you can do whatever you like. Spoiler alert: unless you have a sous chef who already chopped all your vegetables and pre-boiled your potatoes, it takes more than 30 minutes. Shocker.

The read

Does a podcast count? I’ve known of too many pastors who have abused their position only to land in another pulpit a few states away. I’d heard the former Hillsong NYC pastor resigned in 2020 after a “moral failure,” so I was a bit hesitant when a friend recommended Lights On with Carl Lentz. I was pleasantly surprised to hear Lentz share he would not be taking up the preaching mantle again. The way he speaks in the first five episodes reveals a genuine repentance and a hopeful understanding of his belovedness as a child of God.

The moment

My daughter Natalie took me to her favorite coffee shop during our Virginia visit. Sitting with her and talking about life was sweeter than the treats in this photo. And the café au lait was perfection.

The French Press

Be well, friends.

1. minor edits and gifs added