I Want To Be Famous.

So lately I want to be famous.

Ok-let’s be real, I have always wanted to be famous.

I have dreamed of being Miss America, Miss USA, Miss Mule Day (wait-accomplished that)-hey yo-

I have dreamed of starting a hundred different non-for-profits that would change the world, of being an esteemed author, of being a voice of hope for women in the infant-toddler-years- of being the “IT” mom in the “IT” circles.

I calculate what I post on social media; for the intent of the follow, for the intent of the acknowledgment.

Yeah. I have a taste for fame.

miss america

Or maybe not. When I think about crossing into the sphere of public opinion; where the stage is set to critique, and the accolades come from competitors, I cower a little. I am safe at arm’s length with those I love. I am safe intimately with those I love. Is it the fame I seek…

Or is it to be known?

I gut check myself on this often. Josh gut checks me as well.

Why does approval matter?

Haven’t we all been told that man’s approval is fleeting and fickle? Haven’t we heard that other’s opinions don’t matter? Haven’t I heard that I am loved, accepted, wanted, adored, needed…..enough to feel known??

These opinions do matter though. As much as we pin quotes to our mirrors and cling to Instagram pictures of hope-we still desire to be known. To be seen. To be heard. To be loved. Even to be famous. We want to feel human; which on any level is relational. When connection is lost, so are we. Literally.

We had family pictures this week. I groaned getting ready because the face in the mirror looked haggard to me. It looked unkept and rejected. As I started getting ready I took notice of little things on my face that have been with me these 33 years. Some were becoming more pronounced, others just showing, but still the marks were exclusive to this face. My face.

The mole tucked in the crease of my smile. The eye that is smaller than the other. The sun spot on my cheek from Saturdays on the beach in FL. The crows feet forming on the outside of my eyes. The wrinkles in my forehead.

As I was thinking about all these little things that are mine, and specific to the complete portrait of my face; I thought ‘Josh knows this mark. This mole. This laugh line. My parents know these eyes, the cow-lick in my hair, my smile. My family knows this face. My children know this face. The people I share my life with know this face.’

Clarity.

My college roommates knowing I didn’t want to talk to them before 10 am. A dear friend texting me every year, on the first day of Fall, because she knows it is my favorite season. My sister and brother checking in on me, loving me from Tennessee, letting me know I am missed. My parents, grandparents and family taking time to still know me although I moved away ten years ago. Lifelong best friends who know many versions of this face. And this personality. Our relationships and friendships in Iowa and across the country.

My parents. Josh’s family. Three blonde-hair boys. My husband.

The being known has been ugly at times. I have been known in anger and selfishness. I have been known through harsh words and cold shoulders. I have made myself known in theatrical displays of irrational behavior. 

The scars on my hands from bar-tending and botched cooking. The tears that flow in moments of stress and unbalance. The laughter, the sarcasm, the goofy dances, the clumsy falls, the moments of confidence and the waves of fear are all known.

I am known. Casually known. Intimately known.

And to be known, at this level, has to be enough. It is enough. It has always been enough.

The face I dissect is the same that my parents loved at first glance. It is the same face that has posed for countless pictures with the best of friends. It is the same that my husband holds in his hands when I am freaking out. The same face that my children touch, and smile at, and measure comfort and safety with.

It’s a face known by a loving Creator. 

I thanked God for the mole. And apologized for overlooking the real beauty in what he created.

My heart released some stored up anxiety this week. What about your heart?

Jesus, lover of my soul, reminded me that I am, and have always been, KNOWN. For once and for all, it was time to stop worrying about it. 

Same for you-be done with it.  Rest your mind. Look at yourself and decide what it is that people know you for. Your smile. Your eyes. Your laugh. Your kindness. Pick one thing, one little thing, and claim it as yours and only yours.

People die with worry. I don’t want to be that person. I want to live, and die, thankful for those who have walked the road of life with me, and know me well, and love me firecely.

We are all known for something. I know I am one lucky Mule Day Queen.

mule day

 *******************************************************************************************

So MY MAN released a new album, Close, and it would be no surprise that You Know Me is my favorite track.

Cause I struggle with that truth, ya know??

And these words are good, good medicine to my soul. This song. Money. I hope it encourages you.

~You Know Me~Josh Misener

Where can I go
Where can I go from your presence
From your Spirit
From your passion

And if I go, And if I go up to the heavens
Or down in darkness
Still you are present

Oh this love
My words are lost

If I rise, If I rise on wings of morning
or if I settle far beyond here
Even there you’re reaching out
There to hold me
Out of the sorrow
Out of the anguish

O this love
My words are lost

How you chose me
You know me Lord
You know me

When the light turns into night all around me
You won’t forget me
You’re there to guide me
Oh-Oh

When I’m alone, when I’m undone
You hold me
You give mercy
You chose me (you know me)

 

Loving onelyric? Hang out with me on FB!!

Josh’s music can be found on iTunes-or just email me and I will send you the goodness in the mail!

2 thoughts on “I Want To Be Famous.

  1. I regularly imagine interviews with Ellen about fake things that made me famous. Blog posts, american idol auditions, having septuplets. We always have a great time, and I get to express all my opinions that nobody ever asks me about ;).

  2. My dear Courtney, you ARE voice of hope for me in the infant-toddler-years! You have helped me keep my sanity during these rough first weeks, given me plenty of things to think about and lots to LAUGH about! Remember, if you can’t laugh, you’ll cry! I have thoroughly LOVED getting to know you more. We always have so much fun together. We definitely need to have a dance party with our boys … or maybe just us. :)

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