With Christmas coming up I've been re-filled with anticipation and eagerness. It's the first year that I feel like both of our daughters are old enough to really be excited. Last year Meimei was still too young to understand why everyone was so excited. She was excited, yes. But Meimei gets excited because her plate is blue and today her favorite color is blue, and so this year she's really excited that she gets to celebrate Jesus. I watch the world turn through her big (big for an Asian, anyway), brown eyes and wonder what she sees sometimes that I don't. Her world is always open and full of light and laughing. There's always fun to be had, something new to try, or in her case, taste. So far, in the last week, she's tasted: the car window, her chair, the table, the bathtub, the soap (she didn't like that one), and her pillow. If it weren't for the fact she tells me that she is deliberately wanting to know how they taste, I'd think she was part dog, licking everything around the house. I just hope she's not doing it at school.
I digress.
What is it about the way that this kid lives that makes her run headfirst into everything, sometimes literally? No fear of anything. Natalie wasn't that way. She was cautious, careful, serious. Still is. I love her for it because I can trust her with almost anything and at seven she's more responsible than some teenagers I know. But Meimei isn't the same. Meimei sees differently. Neither one of my daughters really care much what other people think of them. It's a blessing and a curse. But I think because of that, they're comfortable in their own skin. And I often wonder what it's like to see the world through their eyes.
I read a blog post this morning by a woman who was challenging other women to understand how beautiful their own husbands think they are. She ends by writing that we (she was talking about women, but I think it applies to everyone here) allow too many voices to influence what we think, and that we often forget which voices really count. I think she may be onto something here.
In one of the devotionals I was reading, the author wrote that the danger we often face as we navigate our day-to-day lives is what we listen to. Not what we hear, but what we listen to.
It made me think of a conversation I had last spring with a friend of mine. Faced with a less-than-ideal situation, I was trying to figure out what to do next, who to listen to, trying to decide whose opinions were valuable, and whose I could (internally) ignore. In the heat of conversation, I angrily blurted out the words, "Well, how am I supposed to know whose opinion matters? Should yours?" The response I got was, "I should hope so." It was delivered without defense, insecurity, or malice. Only the simplicity of indicating that in the world of opinions thrown at me, this was one that should count.
Inside, I reeled. It seemed so obvious to the other person. Why wasn't it obvious to me? Shouldn't I, of all people, know whose opinions should matter to me? Was I being so easily swayed by others, riding a roller coaster of emotion, that the opinions that should have mattered were the ones that I stood questioning? I didn't like that feeling. Not one bit. I hated that feeling so much that I vowed to pray through the question until the Lord gave me an answer. Whose opinions should count? He has been so faithful in answering that prayer. I am grateful for the discernment and clarity He's given me in guiding me towards those He wants me to listen to, and protecting me from those whom He doesn't.
I think, looking at my youngest daughter, my sunshine child who sees light and life in everything around her, I might understand now what happened that day, standing outside in a parking lot. In all my insecurity and anger that day, I got the answer I should have known. That day God gave me an answer to be able to see what my daughter sees. He cautioned me to listen carefully to those who are wise, and to be wary of those who try to sway. He taught me to be fearless in following Him and in allowing myself to be led by those He's given me.
So here's my question: Who are you listening to? And who I am listening to? Because it matters. What we allow ourselves to see and hear and believe matters in the construction of who we decide to be.
I digress.
What is it about the way that this kid lives that makes her run headfirst into everything, sometimes literally? No fear of anything. Natalie wasn't that way. She was cautious, careful, serious. Still is. I love her for it because I can trust her with almost anything and at seven she's more responsible than some teenagers I know. But Meimei isn't the same. Meimei sees differently. Neither one of my daughters really care much what other people think of them. It's a blessing and a curse. But I think because of that, they're comfortable in their own skin. And I often wonder what it's like to see the world through their eyes.
I read a blog post this morning by a woman who was challenging other women to understand how beautiful their own husbands think they are. She ends by writing that we (she was talking about women, but I think it applies to everyone here) allow too many voices to influence what we think, and that we often forget which voices really count. I think she may be onto something here.
In one of the devotionals I was reading, the author wrote that the danger we often face as we navigate our day-to-day lives is what we listen to. Not what we hear, but what we listen to.
It made me think of a conversation I had last spring with a friend of mine. Faced with a less-than-ideal situation, I was trying to figure out what to do next, who to listen to, trying to decide whose opinions were valuable, and whose I could (internally) ignore. In the heat of conversation, I angrily blurted out the words, "Well, how am I supposed to know whose opinion matters? Should yours?" The response I got was, "I should hope so." It was delivered without defense, insecurity, or malice. Only the simplicity of indicating that in the world of opinions thrown at me, this was one that should count.
Inside, I reeled. It seemed so obvious to the other person. Why wasn't it obvious to me? Shouldn't I, of all people, know whose opinions should matter to me? Was I being so easily swayed by others, riding a roller coaster of emotion, that the opinions that should have mattered were the ones that I stood questioning? I didn't like that feeling. Not one bit. I hated that feeling so much that I vowed to pray through the question until the Lord gave me an answer. Whose opinions should count? He has been so faithful in answering that prayer. I am grateful for the discernment and clarity He's given me in guiding me towards those He wants me to listen to, and protecting me from those whom He doesn't.
I think, looking at my youngest daughter, my sunshine child who sees light and life in everything around her, I might understand now what happened that day, standing outside in a parking lot. In all my insecurity and anger that day, I got the answer I should have known. That day God gave me an answer to be able to see what my daughter sees. He cautioned me to listen carefully to those who are wise, and to be wary of those who try to sway. He taught me to be fearless in following Him and in allowing myself to be led by those He's given me.
So here's my question: Who are you listening to? And who I am listening to? Because it matters. What we allow ourselves to see and hear and believe matters in the construction of who we decide to be.
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