Missing Parts

We have a vacation home near my parents. There’s just something about being there that allows me to reconnect with parts of myself that aren’t here in my real residence. I don’t believe it is the house itself. Nor is it the area that brings with it the warmer weather I love. I believe it is the mere fact that my parents are there. Being around them brings out parts of me I sometimes feel are missing. No matter how much I try, I cannot fully be the person I am when they are not near.

It is similiar to running into an old friend. It is like the memory that arises of someone who has passed away. You feel a part of yourself that only that person can bring. I’m certain everyone can relate to the emotions I speak of. It is a part of this life, whether we like it or not.

I went through a phase of reading self-help books. I found it invigorating to strive to “find” my true self. I admit, each book opened my eyes to parts of me I had not known or had hidden in pains of the past. But yet, I still felt I needed to find more. So on my quest went. Book after book, picking up a little part of me here and there.

Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful for those missing parts I recovered. I love the books and I love reading things that can better a person. It’s just, what I didn’t realize is there will always be more missing parts this side of heaven. We were made, we were designed to live in paradise. Of course, sin had to come along and change that. But I now know it’s the reason why it’s so hard to find contentment apart from God. I know who I am meant to be won’t be found in any self-help book alone. Who I am meant to be is found in Christ. It is found in losing myself in Him, missing parts and all.

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