The message to the rest of us-whether from a driven culture or a driven church-is “try harder.”Īnd in all the exhortations we have missed the most important thing of all. But the desires set deep in our hearts seem like a luxury, granted only to those women who get their acts together. Oh, we long for intimacy and for adventure we long to be the Beauty of some great story. And we feel uncertain -uncertain what it even means to be a woman uncertain what it truly means to be feminine uncertain if we are or ever will be.Īware of our deep failings, we pour contempt on our own hearts for wanting more.
We feel unsought-that no one has the passion or the courage to pursue us, to get past our messiness to find the woman deep inside. Why is it so hard to create meaningful friendships and sustain them? Why do our days seem so unimportant, filled not with romance and adventure but with duties and demands? We feel unseen, even by those who are closest to us.
Right? We wouldn’t have so many struggles there would be less sorrow in our hearts. It haunts us, nipping at our heels, feeding on our deepest fear that we will end up abandoned and alone.Īfter all, if we were better women-whatever that means-life wouldn’t be so hard. The result is shame, the universal companion of women. But too emotional, too needy, too sensitive, too strong, too opinionated, too messy. Not pretty enough, not thin enough, not kind enough, not gracious enough, not disciplined enough. I am not enough, and I am too much at the same time. An underlying, gut feeling of failing at who she is. Every woman I’ve ever met feels it-something deeper than just the sense of failing at what she does.
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