Photo: log rail fence in the Kootenays

“I’m never going to be organized.”

Lie.

Well, I asked the Lord to show me the lies I have believed and the first one cropped up whilst going through a file of my recent photos which included this one. (Huh. So that’s where I filed it.) I can give you a lot of historic evidence upon which I have based this lie, most of it embarrassing, but the truth is that by assuming this statement to be correct I have placed a fence around my future, based, not on faith, but on disappointment with the past.

A friend challenged me to examine my words this past weekend. Profound in a simple way -the really profound stuff usually is.

Can you imagine a child telling herself, “Tried walking. Didn’t like it. Fell down -more than once. I obviously do not have the gift of walking. I’ll just have to bum scoot my way through life. Someone else will have to do the walking. My gift is laughing hysterically when somebody blurbles my belly. I know how to bring cheer to the YouTube masses with my charming blurble-induced guffaws. I’ll just stick with that?”

Just an example. Blurble my belly and you’re a dead… I mean you will not be blessed – at least not by me – although I have been known to laugh hysterically with the kind of snorting laugh that is funnier than the original joke. I’m not a delicate giggler. Decorum is not us.

Oh dear. Is that a lie too? This brings other lies to mind. I’m not a runner or a dancer or a carpenter. I have no entrepreneurial skills. I am just your average starving artist (metaphorically speaking -in real life- -huge effort at being positive now- I’m a yet-to-be-discovered, pleasingly plump, deliciously dimpled lateral thinker).

Note to self: The thing is that when a you are convinced you are not a runner, or capable of earning more than survival wages you tend to stop trying. In fact you will go so far as to sabotage any budding talent in that direction. You’re building limits on your God-given potential like thick log fences around your future.

Renewing the mind. OK. I am not a disorganized person. I am an organized person having a disorganized experience. Write that down and stick it on the fridge, Charis.

Now where did I put my pen?