For so long, even while I was married, I felt like I had to assume both gender roles in my home to some degree. There were always certain tasks my husband was responsible for but as far as being taken care of? I felt like I had to do that on my own. I resented that I had to do that, but you do what you gotta do, right? So I started kickboxing early in our marriage and felt imbued with this power that spoke to me, saying, "You can do anything. You don't need anyone." And I was proud of the fact that I could take care of my own damn self.
But recently, I've suddenly felt that it's okay for me to embrace being a woman, with all the girly stuff involved, including crying and being sentimental and all that jazz. For some reason, I don't feel that it's necessary to maintain the tough-girl persona. I've even started dressing in more feminine ways, doing my hair and make-up more often. I'm drawn to brighter, more cheerful colors and prints too. I actually feel a desire to be a woman. I even feel beautiful sometimes. I wore a dress last weekend with flowers on it! Flowers! Pink flowers, no less! Those of you who know me, know that I mostly wear black and grey and very plain clothes. But recently I have added color to my closet and even wore a white sweater last week. White! It's like the world is upside-down suddenly. But also like the sun has come out and the night is over. This change in me is about a new perspective on life and a new understanding of who I might really be.
In addition to the more cheerful clothes, the tasks that I was so proud of accomplishing (like using tools, and building stuff and fixing toilets) doesn't appeal to me anymore. I used to get pleasure from revving up my saw or drill, but suddenly it has become a burden; something that no longer identifies who I am. (I still have to do these tasks, of course, but I feel differently about them.)
I woke up this morning with these thoughts playing out in my head and caught a mental glimpse of my punching bag that I have in my garage. Although I have other fitness equipment in there as well, the punching bag sits at the center of the mats, making a bold statement to me. It has always been there for me when I need to just scream at the world and yet can't. It bears the scars of all my frustration and anger and hurt and pain. In the last few years, I've used it primarily for when I wanted to beat the crap out of something, not really for exercise.
I've always loved the fact that I used to be a bad-ass kickboxer. Because when one kickboxes properly, they do not do it as a lady, they do it as a warrior. It's in the power of the punches and the force of the kicks, with your guard always up and your head dipped while you maintain a glare in your eyes that says, "Don't. Mess. With. Me." But this morning when I thought about my bag it was almost as if some air was let out of that attitude. Like a little balloon deflating a bit. And I struggled with that because being a kickboxer is what I have identified with for the last 16 years as a secret source of power and strength. I don't want to lose a love I've had for so long and yet it doesn't seem that God wants me to embody that "tough-as-nails" attitude anymore.
But if I don't, then I take the risk of being a weepy, delicate little flower of a woman, but I'm so not. I know that I'm not. Because I know I've walked through dark parts of hell with Jesus at my side and He has made sure I walk out victorious.
Ohhhh, I see it now...
I'm a bad-ass warrior because of His strength. I'm not a delicate flower. I'm tough by His design, but in the areas in which it matters, in the spiritual sense. And taking on Christ's strengths for spiritual battles will enable me to stand strong in the face of daily battles as well. Perhaps my source of strength was misguided, before. It was too self-centered and self-dependent.
Okay, that totally makes sense now. And I like it. I embrace it.
But now what do I do with my punching bag? I have really suddenly lost all my desire to beat the crap out of it. I have this strange peace that says I can rest now. I can sit down and cross my legs as a lady and just.....rest. There may come a day when God puts a godly man into my life and whispers, It will be okay; you can just be a woman now; I've given you someone who will care for you. And that's a promise worth dwelling on.
But even more than that future promise is the reality of now. God is my hero and my strength. He is the Man that takes care of me and the one that says, Shhhh, you can rest now. I've got this. Put away your boxing gloves and just let me be your protector. And that's just beautiful.
He is also the warrior inside of me that will always exist because Christ lives in me and that automatically makes me a victor.
Through your name we will trample down those who rise up against us. Psalm 44:5
The LORD is my strength and my shield; My heart trusts in Him, and I am helped. Psalm 28:7
We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. 2 Corinthians 4:7-9
Wow! If that Corinthians verse is not a fitting example of a bad-ass warrior, then I don't know what is!
So maybe it's okay that I don't identify with these earthly sources of strength anymore. What a comfortable resolution I've come to. I'm at peace with it. God is my strength.
No comments:
Post a Comment