I am done apologizing.
If you're my husband and you're reading this, you're thinking - "What do you mean 'you're done?' You haven't ever really been that great at saying those two little words." Yes, that's true. I am a dyed-in-the-wool first-born with a stubborn streak, and I don't really argue unless I feel strongly about something... so when I decide to put my toe to the mat on an issue, I don't back down too easily. [I saw a great sign once that said, "I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong." That pretty much sums up how I approach arguments. Maybe I should see a therapist...]
I guess I should clarify. I'm done living apologetically. This afternoon I read an article about the importance of mothers not criticizing their appearance because it defines the way in which their daughters will come to view their own bodies. I am glad to be living in a day and age in which there is an awareness about these things. Somehow it is empowering to me to be reminded about the powerful influence I have over critical points of self-formation in the lives of my daughters. I think to myself, "I can do that! I can love myself and my body and, in doing so, pass on a legacy of compassion toward self to try to give my daughters a leg up in this harsh world of airbrushed ads and boob jobs." As I basked in premature self-congratulation about what a great job I plan to do of not criticizing my body in front of my children, I couldn't help but recognize a small gnawing feeling starting to creep up on me. "Good for you," the little voice said, "but what about all of the other ways you cut yourself down in front of your children?"
And so, standing in my kitchen this afternoon, I decided I am done.
I am done apologizing for the state of my house. How many times have I greeted guests at my door and said, "I'm sorry it's so messy in here"? OF COURSE IT'S MESSY IN HERE! I have two young children who play their way through my home like Tasmanian devils all day long. I spend a good portion of each day feeding these precious little ones and then dealing with the fallout after mealtime - sweeping up crumbs, wiping up spills, searching on hands and knees for random green beans and forgotten pieces of chicken nuggets (not real chicken, of course - we're vegetarians) that have been thrown overboard by my two-year-old when I wasn't looking. And apparently it's not my spiritual gift to label toy bins or switch out closets right on time, or - since we're being honest - put away clean clothes. I can get the clothes clean, I just can't seem to get them back in our drawers in a timely manner. So if you show up on my porch unannounced, chances are there will be some (clean!) laundry to greet you on my couch. There is some staring at me at this very moment. Some of it is even folded, so we're getting close!
Why do I obsess over having my house clean before I want anyone to see it? And why, even when I've made my best attempt to straighten up, do I find myself nervously inspecting my home with fresh eyes when my guests arrive? I certainly never show up in someone's home and mentally critique the state of their home - I hardly even notice. So why would I assume that people are doing this to me? Even though my paranoia is waning as I've given up all hope of keeping a perfectly maintained home, I sometimes find myself wanting to apologize. But lately I've been stopping myself because I have an almost four-year-old who pays attention to everything, and I've started to wonder how this sounds to her little ears. Often times she has helped in some precious four-year-old way to prepare for our guests, whether putting away some toys or library books or making her bed. When she has pitched in like this, she is almost bursting with pride to welcome our guests when they arrive. I wouldn't dare diminish her efforts by suggesting to someone in front of her that the state of our house is not good enough. And then I think, well, if I wouldn't do this to my daughter, why am I willing to do it to myself? Why do I diminish my efforts to clean instead of just saying (without words), "Welcome to our home! We value you and your presence here and are choosing to ignore that pile of paperwork on the kitchen counter. (Who has time to sort through junk mail every day?) I hope my child has flushed the toilet since she last used it so you don't have a surprise greeting you when you powder your nose. You might want to watch your step so you don't break your neck by tripping on that toy lying there. Want some hot tea? Now sit down right here and tell me everything! Please don't sit on the clean clothes..." [How would I do this without words? I'm not sure. But you see what I'm getting at, right?]
Just as I would never criticize the way I look in front of my child, I should not criticize our home. This is a sacred place where my children are growing up, where we bond daily over meals, where we have dance parties and read books and make pancakes. My children are proud of our home because this is where we do life. I need to join them in that posture and get over the imperfections within.
I am done apologizing for my gifts and talents. I think we are taught from an early age to deflect compliments, to minimize our achievements and our gifts in the name of humility and graciousness. Let me be clear - I am all for humility, but I don't think true humility requires that we try to deny our gifts rather than acknowledging and cherishing them. I don't think it requires that we diminish ourselves. In fact, I'm pretty sure we do a thorough job of letting ourselves be diminished on a daily basis. We compare ourselves to impossible standards, we let Pinterest and Facebook and Instagram make us feel like we're not organized enough, not creative enough, not DOING enough. [It was enough when it was the women in magazines and in Hollywood that we compared ourselves to - now we know what everyone is doing all of the time, from our best friends to our old high school acquaintances, and they are thrown into the comparison pool as well. It's exhausting!] Maybe it's just me, but I tend to doubt it. If we're going to beat ourselves up all of the time (which we need to stop doing), we need to at least have the counterbalance of giving ourselves credit for all of the things we ARE DOING. Because I'm guessing that each of us is pretty darn amazing. Girlfriends - let's be each other's best cheerleaders. Enough with the competition and the jealousy and the false humility. Let's get to know each other well enough to be able to name one another's gifts, and when our gifts are acknowledged, let's help each other learn to say, 'thank you,' to smile freely and let ourselves glow with the knowledge that we are special and that we have something important to offer the world. Let's help one another be the very best versions of ourselves. This is what we want for our children, isn't it? We don't want them to hide their lights under a bushel - NO! Let those babies shine, and teach them how by letting your own light shine the way God intended. Don't apologize for your awesomeness! Use it to bless those around you. I get excited just thinking about what would happen if we could all learn to do this...
I am done apologizing for my opinions, my theology, my perspective on life. I don't outright apologize for these things, of course, but I apologize for them in my heart every time I fail to speak up or contribute to a discussion in which the prevailing voices go against the perspective I hold. I don't need to speak up because I have the right perspective or possess some secret truth, but because I think that part of growing up and becoming a mature adult means being brave enough to offer a dissenting voice, being gracious enough to hear dissenting voices and have a civil and even open-minded conversation. When I don't speak up, a little part of me curls up and dies, as if I'm ashamed of who I am and what I think. All my life I have been a people-pleaser, and if being honest, of course I still want to please people. But I also want to have the guts to be wholly myself even when that's going to rub people the wrong way. I want to embrace the whole of who I'm becoming, to risk sharing myself and, in doing so, possibly discovering that the whole of who I am is okay, that I will be loved not in spite of who I am but because of who I am.
AUTHENTICITY.
This is what I want for myself, this is what I want for my children. This is what I value most highly in my friends. It's important to be able to say those words - I'm sorry. I'm going to save them for the times I've spoken too harshly to my children, for the times I've refused to back down in a conversation with my husband and ended up valuing the idea I'm defending more highly than the relationship, for the times I find myself acting unjustly, for the many mistakes I will make on a daily basis as I try to be a wife and mother and friend.
But I'm done apologizing for who I am. In big ways and small, in ways spoken aloud and in ways hidden deep inside my most private self, I need to stop apologizing. This is me. These are the varicose veins that I get during pregnancy - awesome, right? This is my couch piled with clean laundry. Just scoot it out of the way before you sit down. Want to fold an undershirt while we talk? Go for it! This is my latest idea - it's pretty great, isn't it? These are my children. I yell at them sometimes, hopefully not in front of you, but I'm pretty sure they know to their cores how much I love them. This is what I think. This is how I feel. And I want to know all of these things about you, too. Please don't worry about your veins, about your laundry - clean or dirty - about your children, your ideas, your feelings. I don't love you in spite of those things, I love you because of them.
Let's do life together. Let's be authentic. And let's save those two little words for the times they're actually needed.
Thanks for posting, Tobin! Great thoughts :).
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