I have a gift to give to the world.
Say that out loud. I have a gift to give to the world. Now spin around three times in front of a mirror and when you open your eyes, you will see…
Han Solo standing roguishly next to your very own Mini Cooper!!!
Just kidding. You’ll see you.
But if you do see a royal blue Mini Cooper with white racing stripes, well, DIBS! But I digress.
I’ve been MIA for the past month because my stomach- forevermore dubbed “the Sarlacc”- decided to turn into the pit of Carkoon, and not accept anything other than broth and bread without violently spitting it back out. This caused me to go off all my medication, with the exception of two lovely bicillin shots a week (which, if you don’t know, go straight in your rump. Yowza!) And yet, as the huge quantities of medicine fled my system like Sand People spying a Krayt Dragon, my head began to clear, and I- despite the whole living on broth part- began to feel more like, well, ME.
Which is great, because on top of my newest affirmation “Surrender is Freedom”, as mentioned in my last post (click here to read), I have a new one.
I have a gift to give the world.
Now, this one is huge. Because to give a gift, you have to have something to give. And when you’re struggling with a chronic illness, you often feel so depleted, so desecrated, that you have nothing left even remotely worthy to offer the world. This usually spurs a kind of self-loathing. And I am going to be really honest with you, folks– until attending a transformative conference at the Omega Institute, I had a lot of that self-loathing.
Enter interior monologue: I am weak. My body is crippled. I am a burden to all around me. I have nothing to offer. I am helpless. Useless. I will never be of value again until I am healed.
Feel the indignation as you read those words? You probably wanted to smack me upside the head and say: “now, wait just a dang minute! That’s plumb crazy talk!” (Oh, you’re also a character out of a Clint Eastwood Western… apparently.) And you’re right. It is crazy talk. But it was the tape running through my head, until I realized…
Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I can’t love myself. Because I have gifts to give the world. And they have nothing to do with whether or not my legs work. They have nothing to do with whether I need a wheelchair to go out, or my husband to drive me places. Because who I am– my purpose, my value– transcends far beyond my body’s limitations.
I have a gift to give the world. And you know what? You do, too.
Well, dang, don’t that feel good. So go on. Find yours. Give yourself a celebratory hand gun salute. (Literally. Literally hand-gun. As in imaginary guns made out of your thumb and index finger. Just to be clear.) So ask yourself. What is your gift?
Yee-haw! (Pshew, pshew, pshew!) <—- Firing into the air