From birth, children are hardwired to speak up to make sure their needs are met. When a baby belts out her first post-womb cry, she asks, “What about me? Do you see me? Will you help me?” Her wailing likely stops when her call is answered with a blanket or as she receives food. When a preschooler says, “Mom, Mama, MOMMY!” he generally isn’t left without a reply. As a child, I asked “What about me?” a lot. My parents nearly embellished a T-shirt for me with the phrase. Unfortunately, it did not continue to be cute as I aged. My first inclination is always to wonder, “What about me?” In the context of Christian leadership, my self-focus can take away from my ability to be effective in seeing and meeting the needs of others: my purpose for leading in the first place.
When tragedy fell on my family, I doubted more than anything else that I would ever be happy again on earth. In those days, the darkness was so dense that even the brightest truths couldn't cut through the heaviness in my heart. I truly did not expect to experience belly-laughing good times ever again. I assumed I would taste joy, because of the hope of Heaven after this world, and I predicted that someday I would smile at lovely memories. I did expect to see some kind of light at the end of this tunnel. But happiness? Not likely. Not in this lifetime. Until bright spots started breaking through the cracks of my brokenness.