what am i to you?

I've come to a point in my life where I have realized, and maybe nobody else has, that I am not who I was, and that I am not yet who I want to be. It didn't happen overnight--it's been happening for awhile now, I just put it into words.

This feeling--unreality, lack of identity, yet itching to become this woman of my dreams, of your dreams, of God's dreams--is, unfortunately, months old. It must feel like the Israelites felt as they wandered through the desert for 40 years, waiting for the promise of God, which always comes, because He is always faithful. But it's been months filled with questions and anxiety:

"Where did I go?"; "Am I making this up?"; "Am I actually just crazy?"; "Where do I go from here?", and more pressing..."What do I do with my life?"

It's the question that forms our identity, our silly, earthly idea of an identity. It's like my whole identity, in my eyes, was based off of what I did or did not do. Going to school, I was either defined by my major or my weekend plans--and I don't have either, so I'm kind of screwed there.

I think mostly I wanted to look like a winner. I wanted to be perceived as someone who was going places, who was passionate and loving (someone who didn't just say that, but actually lived that), who had it all figured out--everyone loves those kind of people--I love those kind of people. I surround myself with those kind of people--those people are inspiring and demand my respect and admiration. Those people have awesome conversations about their plans and their goals. My conversations are a bit more boring:
"What is your major?"- I don't know.
"What do you want to do?" -I don't know.
"What do you care about?" -People.

Wow. Inspiring.

The thing is, I used to have it all figured out. I was comfortable with who I was--I knew God had plenty of work to do on me, but I liked who I was and where I was taking me. That's who I was, and am not anymore. I think God had to take it all away. I think He had to take away any false notion of who I was or who I thought He wanted me to be. He had to take away my plans, and even some of my dreams. He had to put me in this little cocoon, and I had to wait it out. He had to do all that, and then honestly, really just replace it with Him. He had to do it. I would have never, ever, ever in a million years done that on my own.

And then when you find out that you have nothing defining you, except that you are a Daughter of the King, you eventually realize that that's a pretty cool identity; that's a pretty cool foundation--it's promising--more promising than anything I would've come up with on my own.

I do have dreams, and goals, and ideas--sometimes they are overwhelming. And they don't really fit into the "college plan." So I'm in this place, and I'm sucking every piece of knowledge that I can out of it, I'm volunteering, I'm trying my best to love people like Jesus would, and to regain a sense of identity.

And I'm itching. I'm itching because I know that thing that makes us, any of us, good, is Jesus. And that's the one thing that I know for certain I have. And I'm itching because these dreams or wishes or ideas that I have (I can't tell you what they are--that would ruin the surprise), I have to believe are a gift from Jesus, and will eventually be fulfilled by Him.

It's just this waiting time, where I'm wondering what defines me, what is taking me from who I am into who I am going to be.
And it's God. And I'm getting there.