Who am I?

I guess that's the fundamental question every person asks themselves eventually.

Usually in their early twenties.

Sometimes the question is birthed by an emotional breakdown brought on by a breakup, a traumatic event or an unfortunate experience with one too many martinis.

Sometimes the question is ignored. With a sideways glance and a shudder, it's plunged deep within the minds recesses, hopefully never to surface again.

There are those of us that obsess over this question. Hoping the answer is never given, we polish the idea up like a piece of silver and prominently display it on the shelf of our psyche. Idolized, we give ourselves over to the self-indulgent fantasy that who we are is of paramount importance and we must never answer the question for fear of losing our focus...namely, ourselves.

Some may constantly change the answer. Forever working on themselves they evolve into a super-person. Interested in everything. Good at most things. Trying anything.

I've always been able to answer that question definitively.
I'm a Christian.
But lately, I've begun to wonder exactly what that means.

I'd like to say it happened the day I turned thirty. It would be nice to have such a clean-cut reference point. I'm all about bullet-points and organization. I like the concrete.

Unfortunately, I began to question everything about a decade earlier and the story is decidedly messy.

I'm nothing if not deeply aware of myself.
You might say I'm an expert in all things related to me.

I can, in all honesty, tell you my questions began to surface after suffering a devastating miscarriage when I was a twenty year old newlywed.

All of a sudden, life didn't seem so clear-cut. Something really bad had happened to me and I didn't understand why.

As I watched my husband fish a tiny body from the toilet, my faith took a beating.

In all the moments since, I've become painfully aware that life can't be explained by pat sayings and scripture taken out of context.

John 3:16 doesn't answer every question, soothe every hurt and erase every doubt.

So. Who am I?

I can give you the facts. I'm a thirty year old woman. I'm a wife. A mother. A slightly obsessive personality that dislikes clutter and allopathic medicine.

I'm a writer. A procrastinator (especially when it comes to my writing.) A lover of food and old movies.

I can say I'm a Christian, in that I believe Christ died for my sins, I go to church every Sunday and, like good Christians everywhere, tune my radio to K-Love when I'm driving to the supermarket.
I'm not sure that's enough for me anymore, though.

I want more from my faith than a lists of do's and don'ts. I want some answers. I want understanding and I want to know the truth.

Ten years ago I lay sobbing on my bed wondering why I lost my baby and God was quiet.

I did what any self-respecting mother would do...I ran after Him. Really, no one else could give me the answers I needed.

I've been chasing Christ ever since.

Maybe some of you think that's disrespectful. Maybe you think I'm rebellious or faithless.
Maybe I am.

But I'm authentic....and at least I'm not chasing after martini's.