“I think we got a dud.” This has been my standard line when people tell me how amazing it must be to have a Great Dane. When we researched this dog breed, we learned that they are “gentle giants”. Goofballs, yes, but kind and caring friends who like to snuggle and lay around with you on the couch. Last night, I was laying around on the couch and got smacked in the face with a huge stuffed hippo that our “gentle giant” was whipping around. And though our Roxie does like to cuddle, it’s often accompanied by teeth, because apparently nothing says love like an attempted nip on the nose.

I’ve spent way too many of my waking hours stressing over this dog. So, last month, in the midst of graduating our eldest, preparing for trips and camps, and…you know…working, I decided I was done. Roxie might be a hot mess, but she’s our hot mess, and that’s okay. She is who she is…and she’s not a dud, even if others might look askance as she saunters by wearing her muzzle and e-collar as we make our way down the trail.

It’s pretty easy to look at ourselves and others and think: “There’s a dud.” Maybe we make a regretful decision, lose a job, blowup a relationship, or miss an opportunity. Perhaps we disappoint a loved one with our words or our silence, with a careless action or thoughtless inaction. If any of you have read any of my work for any amount of time, you know that I am a “pleaser.” I hate disappointing people…and I hate that I hate it. Being a “pleaser” is emotionally exhausting, and no matter how much I try to turn that switch off, it persists in staying on. The result is that I often feel like a dud. I look around at people who are more confident, more successful, who have more friends and more Instagram posts of themselves doing fun things, who have spotless houses and high-achieving kids, and I think: “Eeek…I’m a nobody…who are you? Are you Nobody too?” See what I mean…I can randomly quote Emily Dickinson!! This is not “normal” behavior.

But then I remember these words from Psalm 139….

“Body and soul, I am marvelously made!” It’s a powerful reminder that when God looks at me, he doesn’t see a dud. He’s not disappointed or regretful; instead, he smiles at his marvelously made creation. And there is an absolute freedom in knowing this truth because it releases us from striving to be more than who we are. Ever since I’ve allowed Roxie to be, well, Roxie, I’ve had so much more peace. I understand who she is and I make things work for her so she can be the sassy, goofy, sweet soul she is. And I think that’s what God wants to do for us. He wants us to look in the mirror, see the marvelous work of his hands, and confidently engage in the world as that person, regardless of what anyone else might say.

The truth is, you’re not a dud. I’m not a dud. Your kids aren’t duds, even if they’re driving you crazy with their apathetic approach to homework. Could we all use a little help? Of course! We’re human. We’re going to make mistakes…probably daily…and some will be doozies. People will give up on us. We will be underestimated, or even seemingly invisible. We’ll fail, sometimes spectacularly, and we’ll get things wrong. Some days we’ll feel like we don’t deserve the good stuff in life, because we’re duds. But consider this:

In all of the ups and downs, through all of the emotional loop-de-loops we experience, John reminds us that at our core, we’re children of God, and the marvelous miracle of our being is bathed in his marvelous love, which makes us, quite simply, marvelous. So today, go be your marvelous authentic self, because God doesn’t make a dud.

Blessings and Peace,

Sara