Sometimes I feel I have nothing to offer. Not even as a mother. My voice feels small. Lost in all the noise. And I think, “Should I even speak?” “Is it a waste of breath?” “Of space?” I know it sounds dramatic, but I know some of you feel the same way, think the same things, which is why I’m adding to the noise, waisting my breath, taking up space.

Sometimes I feel I have nothing to offer. Not even as a mother. My voice feels small. Lost in all the noise. And I think, “Should I even speak?” “Is it a waste of breath?” “Of space?” I know it sounds dramatic, but I know some of you feel the same way, think the same things, which is why I’m adding to the noise, waisting my breath, taking up space.

I made Stephen an egg sandwich yesterday morning. Without knowing if he was hungry or wanting anything. In a robotic kind of way I fried an egg, toasted an English muffin, put forth sustenance. I must have subconsciously wanted to offer something.

When I do offer, there are times that it is not good enough. It’s good, but it’s not enough. I tend to translate that as, “I’m not good enough.” I read between lines that are not even drawn there. I tell myself the truth and let go of the little lies I’ve listened to over the years. I offer myself truth.

There are other days, like today, when I blow it with my kids. Like in a major yelling kind of way. The way where they look at me with wide eyes like I have snakes up in my hair. I’ve told myself I have nothing to offer and yet even worse I offered my worst. My worst self. I tell myself, “It’s better to be quiet. When you do speak up you don’t have control of it.”

I pull out my computer at Starbucks, open a blank blog page and begin to type. Hoping to offer words. To offer authenticity. To offer beauty. To offer stories of pain and purpose, brokenness and belovedness. To offer hope. To offer my voice.

A voice that feels unworthy and quiet today and could get lost in the noise, but a voice that is deciding to add to it, anyways. A voice that has something to offer.

I offer.

And the thing I’m learning, lately, is that the more I begin to use my voice, the more I choose to speak up, the more I offer, then the more I hear a rebuttal of “Who are you?” “Your voice is lost in the noise.” “It’s already been said.” “They said it better.” “Not quite good enough.” “Your wasting your breath.” “Be quiet.”

What I have to offer you today is to tell you that if you hear these types of rebuttals, after or, perhaps, before you offer, then you are hearing lies. Let me offer you this truth. Let me offer to you that you are not alone. This storyline that we don’t have what it takes, that what we offer is not good enough is as old as the ages. The Bible is full of stories of individuals having hearts to offer and coming up short. The stories go that when they spoke up (some terrified of speaking because they stuttered), when they used their voice, when they offered, God met them in that space. He gave them words. He was made up for their not enough with His more than enough.

I offer to you that if you feel you have something to say, your story to share, purpose from your pain, and you feel the overwhelming sense, or hear the chatter in your mind, to be quiet that perhaps this surely means that there are many that need to hear what you have to say and one (enemy of your soul) that does not want you to speak it. Does not want to share. Does not want your story to free other people from the one they are bound to.

I offer today that we don’t listen to the lies. That we use our voice, even if we stutter. That we see the space we take up as the very place where God will meet us. That we offer over and over again. I offer that when we offer our worst, like I did today, that there is grace offered to us. A grace that washes over the rebuttals we hear, the lies we listen to, and the wrong choices we chose to make. A grace that offers us a do-over even on the very same day.

I offer my voice this morning, in this space.

What will you offer today?

 

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