"Chosen for the Dance"

I have the idea that someone, somewhere, messed up.  I should be royalty.  I’d prefer to be a queen, but I’d settle for a princess.  The closest I have been to living out my make believe royal heritage is being a suedo mafia princess for my birthday.  Being born and raised in Las Vegas, my mom knew some people.  When I turned 5, I had a suite at a hotel all to myself, was able to watch whatever I wanted, and could order whatever food I wanted from room service.  I’m confident that I’d appreciate such a gift much more now than I did when I was 5.  Nonetheless, I realized at that young age that it was a special day, and I was being treated in a special way.  For the day, I felt that I was special. 

The majority of my life, however, I have not felt that I was special.  Far from it.  The majority of my life has been spent wishing, hoping, praying, and acting like I was special, just to come home to chocolate and ice cream to soothe the pain of realizing that I wasn’t.  As time continued on, I tried different things to fit into the mold of what I perceived to be the preferred look, personality, and choices at the time.  And as I tried to be a very square peg squeezing into round holes, it reinforced the lie in my head and heart that something was wrong with me.  “If only you could be more intelligent and not have so many questions.” “If only you had blonde hair.”  “If only you were interesting like that person.”  “You will never be able to sing like that.”  “If only you weighed ______ and were a size ____, then you’d be loved and desired.”  We as women walk hard roads, unfortunately beating ourselves up with unrealistic expectations and comparisons that are damaging to our souls and relationships.  And this damage can remain within our hearts and hinder us from enjoying the blessings that God bestows to us. 

The concept of being special, chosen, loved, and accepted has been one that I have struggled with and have continued to struggle with as a Christian.  I could read this verse in Romans, and others, and think things such as, “Wow, that’s powerful.” “Amen!” And “Thank you Jesus!” But I could never actually make it stick.  It always seemed that those verses were for other people.  After all, I process much of life through the psychological lenses of “My mom and dad did NOT choose me; so who would?”  This lie has been a foundation in my life.  And it has been so hard to over come. 

When I got married, my father didn’t walk me down the aisle.  I didn’t get to have a father-daughter dance at my wedding.  And while my life has been wonderful and I am the first to proclaim that I am blessed beyond comprehension, this was a really deep and big wound I carried.  It was quite hard for me to go to friends’ weddings and see friends being given away by their dad’s that loved them so.  I usually had to leave the room for the father-daughter dance because it was too difficult for me to watch.

About six months into my marriage, my church had a women’s retreat.  I missed the first day of the retreat as good friends of ours were married that night.  I left the wedding strategically before the father/daughter dance, but not before the weight of re-hashing those thoughts about not being special nor chosen in my mind.  I came into the retreat with a heavy heart.  I didn’t feel as though I was a child of God.  I didn’t feel as though I was special.  I didn’t feel chosen.  In fact, I believed that God wanted nothing to do with me because I was that unloveable. 

The second night of the retreat, my pastor’s wife guided us into a time of worship with instrumental praise music.  She instructed us to just sit and be quiet before The Lord and see what happened.  I closed my eyes and sat there for a few awkward seconds; then I started to pray.  And it was very apparent that I was not suppose to pray anything.  Within my heart, I knew the Lord wanted me to be quiet both with my voice and in my mind.  And all of a sudden, I had this image of me in the most beautiful gown, dancing in the most elaborate hall, with the most important, prestigious, and powerful man, ever.  The Lord spoke to that wound in my heart and told me that He had chosen me and that He wanted to dance with me.  Tears streamed down my face as the image of me being twirled and spun and fancied over as the belle of the ball continued to flash in mind.

When the music slowly started to slow down and soften, and my pastor’s wife started praying for us all, I opened my eyes to the epiphany that I had just experienced my father-daughter dance.  And, for the very first time, I realized that I was a daughter of the King, which is better than any earthly royalty heritage or mafia princess experience.  I was chosen.  I was special.  I was loved.  And, that wound in my heart had been healed. 

Chosen means to have been selected as the best. Do you know, precious one, that you have been selected as the best?  Jesus’ sacrifice covers you and all God sees is beauty, wonder, purity, and perfection.  Do you live your life in that way beloved?  It is my prayer that you would embrace the arms of your Father in heaven and allow Him to lavish His love on you so that you can experience and know that you are chosen.  You are loved.  You are special. 

Megan Sinisi is one of our Refres{her} bloggers. She describes herself as a 30-something year old lady who is still figuring out who the heck she is and sometimes worries she is just crazy. Megan is a most of the time stay at home mom of 3 precious little “tyrants” whom she loves more than her own breathe and wife to an amazing husband. She absolutely adores a good cup of coffee, chocolate and peanut butter combinations, coloring, being crafty, figuring out homeschooling her children, being silly and laughing with her husband, and chatting with friends about embarrassing moments and deep things at the same time. She has a love and fervor for writing and is walking in faith that God is calling her to use the passion and the gift He has given her. She hopes that her journey encourages, challenges, inspires, comforts, and most importantly, shines the light of Jesus and the reality of His love, grace, and mercy. More writings can be found on Megan's blog at: https://myrenderingheart.wordpress.com/