Old Rooms and Worn T-Shirts

It wasn't long ago that I had THAT conversation. You know the one:

Me: Yeah, so, I'm interested in you.
Him: Not so much.

And at first I felt a little bit sad. He's a good guy, and those are hard to come by. But then I felt two completely unexpected feelings wash over me: familiarity and comfort.

I've been there before. And as I went to those old places, I could remember acutely the details of the times and places that I got "rejected."

Sitting under the desk in our old office, on the portable phone in high school.

Sitting in the front passenger seat of his car as we drove through the nighttime country roads.

Standing in the courtyard at business school listening to the partner at my dream firm explain why they weren't making me an offer.

It felt like being in an old familiar room where I could trace the scratch marks in the well-worn dresser with my finger. Like holding a well worn t-shirt rubbing the holes in the places I know all too well. There was something oddly comforting about that feeling. That t-shirt that bore so many memories, that carried the labels of "not good enough", "not pretty enough", "not smart enough."

And then, in my metaphor, I made a stunning realization. I wasn't moving into the room. I wasn't wearing the t-shirt.

I don't wear t-shirts anymore. I wear a dress that says "beloved, delighted in." And as I revisited the memory boxes in that old room, I saw the labels that I had once used to pronounce a judgment on me tell an altogether different story.

The guy from the first story... Married his high school grad (prom) date and has four beautiful children. Lovely for him, but my life would not be the same adventure if I had four children in tow at this point.

The guy from the second story... Ten years later, we are still really good friends. Over the past ten years, I've seen that despite being really great friends, our lives do not move at the same rhythms. He is a great guy, but not the one for me. (He'll probably read this post... Hi!)

That job... Would have taken me to Atlanta. God moved me to another city where he had work prepared for me to do.

There have been many, many other "rejections" in that old familiar room. But I no longer see them as rejections. I see them as divine providences - moments where a sovereign God used his hand to weave my life into the beautiful tapestry it is today.