Most of my life I’ve been a leader.

I fell into leadership positions as naturally as I would a tub of Ben and Jerry’s.

I’ve always had a strong voice, and as you can tell, a strong love for ice cream. It’s always felt normal for me to lead, and it’s also felt normal for me to grab New York Super Fudge Chunk on a Friday night. It’s capitalized because it’s important.

And honestly, Ben and Jerry are people I dearly miss while traveling around the world. I’ll write them a letter about my discontent.

Anywho, since I can remember I’ve been asked to lead. My soccer team, student groups, my resident dormitory in college. I’ve always enjoyed being in a leadership position, and it’s the category I thought I fit into.

You know, those categories people unknowingly put themselves in; the leader, the quiet one, the smart one, the athlete.

We open that door of ourselves, walking into it, and shutting out others.

Going into the race, I expected to be a team leader. It’s who I was. I didn’t know how to be anything else.

Subconsciously it’s where I found my identity.

And I didn’t realize this until I didn’t get the invitation to become a team leader. Instead, my sweet friend was asked. Someone more reserved, more quiet, more thoughtful. Someone who deserved and needed this role.

I sat in confusion as I wondered what people back home would think.

All my life I’ve heard “of course you would be the team captain, I’d expect nothing less from you.” People raised me up on a pedi stole. And it was a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to listen to the disappointment in their voices when I said “no I actually wasn’t chosen.”

I instantly felt unworthy.
Less important.
Self conscious.

So much of my life I’d asked myself the question, why me?

But now I was asking, why not me?

This moment called for my special friends Ben and Jerry. They’d know that chocolate can smooth over any frustrations.

The first 6 months of the race, I struggled learning how to be a good follower.

How do I do this?

My pride thought I could do it better. My team leader was soft spoken, and learning how to believe in her words. I wanted to just do it for her.

I thought my words didn’t have weight anymore. Feeling rejected from this role made me think that I was less important.

Where did I belong then? Did people still want to hear what I had to say?

I didn’t know where the boundaries were.

But I was wrong.
I didn’t need to be a team leader.
I wasn’t supposed to be one.

My team leader needed to learn how vital her voice was. She needed to be empowered. She needed this. I needed to be something else. I needed time to listen.

Time to learn to be somebody other than just a leader. To learn to just be myself in any situation, regardless of my position. I needed to learn that my voice didn’t equate to a title.

God saw my struggle. He saw the questions I was mulling over. The insufficiency I was feeling. He wanted to teach me something else during this time.

And then I was asked to be a story teller on my squad. Story tellers do just that, tell stories. Share stories, create stories, breathe stories into life.

These people are encouraged to write, record, and share consistently while on the race. Helping other people see a glimpse into this crazy journey we’re on. 

My heart fluttered.

Me? Why me? 

Well, why not me.

God knew I felt like my voice was insignificant. And so, instead of finding it in being a team leader, He showed me that it mattered in a more uniquely designed way.

He’s such a clever God.

Don’t shut yourself in a door. In a door that categorizes you into one thing.

What are you finding your identity in?

If you lost your job, your friends, your role, your ability to do the thing only you can, would you lose yourself too?

These things are important, they make up who you are, but they are not who you are. And if taken away, they don’t define you.

You are you through all of it. You are never less important, less significant, less worthy.

God asks us to do things that are uncomfortable. And in the deepest discomfort comes the deepest growth.

What is the perspective you’re choosing to have? What are you seeing, and how can you see it better?

God believes in you, wherever you are.

He just may be asking you to see the other pieces in your ice cream tub.

You’re made of chocolate, but there’s brownie, fudge chunks, walnuts, white chocolate chips. (That’s all in New York Super Fudge Chunk, please go try it at the store for my sake and yours). And these other pieces in your life are just as valuable, just as important.

You may be feeling like you’re being pulled in a different direction. One less familiar, less appealing.

Just keep going dear, there’s another story to be told.

One you may not have written, but one the creator has written even better.