Crazy /ˈkrāzē/ adjective
1. mentally deranged, especially as manifested in a wild or aggressive way.
2. extremely enthusiastic.
3. (of an angle) appearing absurdly out of place or in an unlikely position.
It’s safe to say that growing up in a family of four hormonal girls there was most definitely a lot of crazy happening under one roof. In fact there was so much crazy that not having any crazy at any given point was considered to be ABNORMAL. That was our life and we were ok with that.
I remember thinking when I was younger that there were not enough men in the world that would be able to handle our craziness. I’m still not sure that there are but I’m still praying. In all honesty, there were times when I let the enemy convince me that there was not a person in the world that could handle the “real” me. You know, the “me” that nobody sees behind closed doors; the “me” that doesn’t exist at social gatherings or private events. The “me” that sometimes lashes out and becomes a little bit too over dramatic. The “me” that often threw temper tantrums when I didn’t get my way. Ya…that me. The “crazy” me.
That was the part of me that I wasn’t too proud of and the enemy knew it. As I grew up and began to see this side of myself, I began to believe all these lies about my future. These things were never meant to last but were spoken over me through the comments I heard from a friend, sister or parent; “you’re selfish,” “you’re a brat,” “you’re impatient,” “you’ve got a short temper,” “you’re spoiled,” “you always get your way.” These were all things I heard from various people, during various times of my childhood. I don’t keep tabs on who said them nor do I care. I know a lot of things are said in the moment when emotions are high but nonetheless, they are words that I remember and words that have stuck with me.
These words began to control my identity. They began to warp my belief that I deserved anything great for my future. As I entered my high school years, I quickly entered the dating pool and struggled tremendously with letting people in. I never wanted anyone to see the “real” me and anytime I felt I was getting too close to someone, I would immediately push them away. When I went off to college I remember telling myself, “Tessa, this is your chance to start over. This is your chance to be different. Nobody knows your past, so you have no way to fail.”
Well folks, I did and I failed hard. I started by hanging up my values and trading them in for something “shinier.” I began dating guys that were worthless and treated me as such and I began to push my girl friends and family away. I stopped believing that I deserved greatness to such a degree that when I met my husband (at a bar) I thought he was an odd ball for not trying to kiss me on the dance floor. How’s that for warped thinking?
When my husband began to pursue me I thought he was some quiet weirdo (no offense hunny) that didn’t know how to act around a woman and so I quickly and painlessly brushed off his hasty pursuit. I became so consumed with the belief that by engaging with shallow men I didn’t ever have to fear the reveal of the “real” me. I believed that if I didn’t let my guard down, I wouldn’t get hurt.
When my (now) husband began to show up at different social gatherings (that he knew I would be at) I thought it was somewhat strange but never gave it much thought. When he started texting me daily asking me how I was doing, I would simply reply with a “good” or sometimes nothing at all. When summer arrived and I went back to Michigan, I was slightly surprised when I received a phone call from him as he just so happened to be thinking of me as he drove a tractor down the street. And I was even more surprised when I saw him on the bus that we took down to our FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes) summer conference.
What blew me away the most was the spare moment that he took me aside and asked me so delicately… “Tessa, would it be okay if I pursued you? I want to get to know you more.” It was at that moment that I knew I had never met a man like this. This man was different. I seemed to jump in with my eyes closed, constantly fearing that he was going to give up on me or see a part of me that he didn’t like and leave me. I remember telling him things that I’d never told ANYONE and watching his eyes stay intently locked with mine, unfazed by it all. He would always say, “thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that. That must have been difficult to do.”
Each time I bore my heart to him, I braised myself for the fall out but he always smiled and hugged me, reminding me that he was never going to give up on me. Still to this day I am amazed at how well he handles my crazy. Between the pregnancy hormones and just my normal, everyday crazy, this man has seen it all and continues to love me through it. Each day I am married to this man I am reminded of God’s faithfulness. For so long the enemy stole so much of my future, I lost hope and quickly forgot the promises of my Father. But He so graciously redeems and restores and I am so thankful for His goodness.
Despite my unbelief, the Father knew exactly what my heart needed. He knew exactly the kind of man that I needed; a man that could handle my crazy, and love my crazy all at the same time. Guy and I don’t have a perfect marriage and we continue to struggle daily. I still lash out at him and call him mean names; to which he allows me some time and waits till I come back to reality. Once I do, I (usually) recognize my foolishness and we laugh at how fast our former conversation got out of hand.
The lesson to be learned here ladies is this: there is absolutely, 100% a man out there that is more than capable of dealing with your crazy. Your burdens and your baggage may seem to haunt you but the man that was created for you BY the Creator is more than equipped to handle even the worst version of you. A little crazy or a lot of crazy it doesn't matter, you are worth a man that will pursue you despite it all.
Let's get crazy ladies!