My life is but a weaving between the Lord and me!

Who am I ?

FYI: This is what I had been “stuck on” and thinking about during my absence from the blog. Re-reading it, I still find it worthy of posting, I still relate to much of it. I just don’t want to put labels on myself, as I might stay within the boundaries of that label..and I know that with the Lord, I can push past any wall, any label or name that I or others place on myself.

AutumnPathway     I woke up just a few minutes ago, and as I walked through my home, I was talking to myself: rather, chastising myself..”Who am I?” I am asking this of myself because of my near constant moodiness and my seeming inability to control the surges of my heart from sorrow to red hot mad in a matter of mere seconds.

At first, I was blaming everything (all the emotions and lack of control) on menopause..if only it was that simple. If it were menopause, I would have had to be BORN in an active menopausal state, and I am sure that is not so. So, thus began the journey in finding out: Who am I?

I have been delving into learning about temperament, and what role it plays in the life of a Christian woman. I have been reading several sources of material, almost all of them are in agreement about the major trait characteristics, etc.., and was a little dismayed to discover that of the 4, I relate the most to melancholy and choleric. Needless to say,while the “strengths” of these are admirable,  the “weaknesses” of these traits do not paint such a pretty picture. And this is where I became stuck in the labels.

This started a few days ago, while shopping in a local Christian bookstore, I had a conversation with a young man who told me something which pierced my heart and soul.

While at the check out register, I noticed among the usual “last minute” buys, a clear donation box, with a picture of several men, shown in unkempt and needing a warm shower and food. It wasn’t so much the writing on the charity box that caught my attention, but the photo. The box was for a local shelter, asking for donations to help the less fortunate back on the feet. I asked the young man behind the register “What, do they only help the men? What about the women?” He thought I was joking, but I was not. He looked up from the register clearly expecting to see me with a smiling face-as if I was joking, but what he say was my serious face-wanting an answer.

I explained that I was a woman who had been studying about our temperament traits, and found out that although we have a bit off all 4 of them, one or who are a bit stronger and show more prevanilently in our lives.I quickly turned around to see if I was causing a back-up in the check out line. Thankfully, there was no one ready to check out.

I wanted to explain to this young man what menoncholy meant. I pointed to a display of various ornate candle stick holders, and asked him what was the first thing he saw when he looked at them. He replied “A bunch of beautiful candle stick holders.. I explained to him that the first thing I saw  was that there was empty spaces in the display. Why this was significant was that my first impression of almost everything was a negative thought-what was wrong with the picture, instead of what most people saw, the impression the display was meant to achieve-in this case, a showcase of similiar yet different candle stick holders.

As I was telling him this, I started to tear up (much like I am now) because of all my traits, this is the one I would most like to change. He noticed the tears about to cascade down my cheeks, and asked me why this bothered me so much.

My answer is this: it is a reflection of the darkness of my heart. I think that it is a pre-cursor to my chronic depression. I would very much like to see things like others do-happy, beautiful, the glass half full mentality. But, that is not what I see, nor feel.

His next comment really surprised me. He said “But, that is the way God made you, can you find a way to rejoice in that?”

It wasn’t until I was back in my car, about to drive away, that I received the blessing of his words.

The way God made me.

God made me.

GOD MADE ME.

God doesn’t make mistakes.

God doesn’t make mistakes.

I am supposed to be this way.

Somehow, I have to find a blessing in this temperament.

God, who doesn’t make mistakes, wanted me, Nicolette, to be this way.

Whoa.

So, I began thinking, how can I serve the Lord with this trait?

In my work life, it has served me while acting as a trouble shooter in the military. I could walk into a room and immediately tell what needed to be changed for the room to be set up uniformly and within regulations.

As an R.N., this was also the case. While  nurses rely on all their “senses” in caring for a hospitalized patient, this trait, again, allowed me to see abnormalities immediately upon entering the room. This allowed me to be more proficient in honing my skills as a nurse, as well as giving the best care I could.

Now, I am retired, and all I seem to be doing is pushing people away by noticing small, insignificant behaviors/attitudes/anomolies, and most people are not pleased by this. It would be probably be helpful if I didn’t actually voice these observations, but my mouth is still faster to my brain, and thought’s are not filtered prior to them being voiced.

Another one of my problems. The unfiltered speech. But that, my friends, is a long story for another time.

I am just happy to know, that I am made of many parts, some good, a few need work, but all striving to be the best ME for Jesus I can be.

Have a wonderful God filled Day!

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