the messy middle

Several months back, I listened to a podcast by Louie Giglio titled, The Dash. (I just looked it up and it was actually from September, 2014. So it was longer than a “few” months, but you get the idea.) Anyway, the general gist of his message was that at the end of our time on Earth, most of us will have a cement grave marker that records our life.  It will be etched with our name, the date we were born, the date we died, and a little dash in the middle. And that small, insignificant dash is what makes up our life.

This has stuck with me (for quite a long time, it appears.)

For years I’ve talked about writing a book. My iPhone holds a collection of chapter titles in the Notes app, and I’ve even written a few paragraphs from time to time. But the thought of actually sitting down to put multiple pages of cohesive thoughts together is more than a bit daunting. Yet, there are things I feel compelled to share. Like, the stuff from my messy life. Stuff that makes up the dash.

Hearing glamorous stories of olympic champions or magnificent come-from-behind wins certainly inspires me. Who doesn’t love an overcomer? But you know what really revs me up?  Hearing tales of normal people in everyday lives who are imperfect and sometimes frustrated, not always cheerful, who have closets stashed with all the laundry and mail and Target impulse purchases they hide when “company’s coming” because they want their lives to appear perfect. Learning that these scattered, hurried, insecure teenagers-inside-grown-up-bodies are actually messy masterpieces gets me excited. It gives me hope. The likelihood is fairly low, at age 42, that I’ll be an olympian.But imperfect chaos-coordinator seeking joy? I get her. I can do that.

Her triumphs over missing socks, heartbreak and mountains of insecurities are the stories that move me. I want to hear about being content while living next to the Joneses.  Teach me to be grateful that my family isn’t intact and that I don’t look like Barbie.

So here’s the good news: just so you’re not jealous, I don’t actually look like Barbie. I’m not even really a “writer.” And my life has been messy and beautiful and disastrous and then dreamy again, but through it all, I’m in progress.  Learning, growing, trying, screwing up, semi-quitting, then getting back at it again. That’s basically me- your everyday overcomer. Oh, and I like to hang out with Jesus and my friends who drink coffee.

Does any of this sound familiar?

Yes?

Then, welcome. This isn’t the Joneses. But you know what it is? It’s good enough. It’s where we discover significance in our dashes. Even if it’s a messy middle.