28...or 8?

Well, I just celebrated my 28th birthday last week. It was good, but like any other day, I suppose. The main difference is that you don't have to feel guilty about wanting to be the center of attention. It's allowed (even encouraged without question or ridicule for this one 24 hour period)...

My sister has been in town and I haved loved every minute of it! I adore her and she "gets" me completely (she better, after 28 years!). She even made me my favorite cupcakes--strawberry cake and strawberry icing--for those who care to know. I felt like I was 8 again, actually.

But there is another reason why I felt 8 again instead of 28 and it all came rushing back to me when she came to town. For some reason, sisters so close in age bring a huge amount of insecurity with them. If you don't believe me...ask the group of women who have sisters that I have talked to lately . I am even considering starting a club--maybe we could call ourselves "Sisterhood of the Time Traveling Insecurity"--cuz that's how we feel. For those of you who have been hanging out with us, don't freak. It's not something you said or did--it's me and it's history. All the 8 year old competition comes back, rearing its ugly head to ruin our sisterhood and friendship. I fight and fight and I feel that the Lord protects my favorite relationship on earth, but I have to constantly fight for it nonetheless. I won't go into detail, but it stems from years of looking like someone, having a similar sense of humor, and having them shine in the areas where you are weak. It is a natural insecurity vacuum...I would even say inevitable. But, as I get older, it is almost harder to fight against and I'm not sure why. Anyway, as I was bawling my eyes out this week about it, the Lord spoke to my heart through a decal on a car window in front of me. Stay with me here...

The image was a semi-normal outstretched hand that was reaching toward me. As your eye traced up the arm, you noticed that the hand belonged to a faceless "devil" with a black crow on its shoulder. The image invoked a little fear, but mostly curiosity. Why didn't it have a face? The following is what I later wrote down in my journal about how God spoke into my insecurity:

"It was at this point that I realized what I have been following. By looking only at the hand of temptation [insert your own here--mine at the moment was insecurity, but could be something else on any given day], I failed to see who's hand it was that I was taking. I am walking right into the grasp of evil. He [the devil, Satan, evil...whatever you call him] does not snatch us up like we'd love to believe he does, but we willingly go. Taking his hand, we are easily led astray like a naiive child to a stranger dangling candy--a tangible representation of temptation. I always wonder how a child can be so blind to not see the danger. Am I any different? Only difference is that my stranger has many faces, but his spirit is a familiar one, almost like an old friend you know you should stay away from. Every new face of my old "friend" fools me because I look no further than his outstretched hand at that moment of weakness. Currently, I'm listening to Caedmon's Call's, 'We must dance, dance, dance...dance in God's honor/We must yield all our steps unto the King.'

I think this is the only way I can throw the candy back into the stranger's face...scream, and run away."

Anybody else feel this way?