Matroyshka & Me

My grandmother immigrated to America from Eastern Europe when she was a young woman. My parents still have some of the treasures she brought with her.  Teacups, saucers, a blanket, and serving tray, trinkets of a life left behind.

As a little girl I used to play with a set of Matryoshka dolls, also know as nesting dolls.

nesting-dolls

One large wooden doll with elaborate paint and a hidden seam. Unless you know what is inside it would just look like a wooden doll. But as you shift the bottom of the doll ever so slightly it wiggles loose and opens up, revealing another elaborately painted wooden doll just a bit smaller. As a child I would open each one, revealing the next doll until all the dolls were lined up. I would hide them all again and uncover them and repeat.

It’s a simple childhood memory many little girls have, but it got me thinking this past weekend. As I stepped toward my Bible the other day I felt hesitant. {Is such a statement safe to admit?} I knew if I opened my Bible and read something I would be the nesting doll. God would open up my heart and reveal something new inside me. Something I would rather not deal with, some issue I have been burying or hiding, an insecurity I would rather not face, a rejection I didn’t want to accept, etc.

It’s easy to be the largest nesting doll. All pretty and painted, sitting safely on the shelf for all to see and comment on her beauty. I can be her. I know that job. I can paint a smile, do up my hair, play the part. But what do I hide inside? What feelings or pains or attitudes do I want to keep covered?

I can even play the part well of the middle dolls. I know my role and what’s expected of me when I am in my home, or at my gym, or in my church environment.

But the difference between the largest doll and the smallest doll. What I didn’t understand as a young girl playing, the largest doll, she’s hollow, and broken. She’s the shell. Yes, she holds all the pieces together, but she’s just the shell. It’s the littlest doll that is made of wood, without any seams to break open, she’s the one that weighs the most. She may be small, but she’s the most stable doll. She may be less ostentatious, but she’s made of solid wood and has substance to her being.

God’s not interested in my heart all pretty and painted and sitting on a shelf. He wants the little doll in the end of the series of nesting dolls. He wants the heart inside of me that is willing to be opened and used and exposed. He wants the grandness of my pride and fear and whatever else to be stripped away until it’s just me and Him.

It’s hard. It’s hard to be brave. It’s hard to wait. It’s hard to hurt. It’s hard to trust. It’s hard to feel exposed. It’s hard to be vulnerable.

It’s hard to trade the large beautifully painted doll for the small one.

As I get ready to celebrate another birthday and think about the years of my life, I want to be the littlest nesting doll. I want to be solid and stable. I want my character to last. I want my legacy to matter. I want to model strength and integrity even in the hardness of life. I want to show joy in the sorrow, grace in the pain, love in the struggle.

As a little girl I would stack all the dolls back up and place them together. As a woman I sometimes repeat this pattern with God. He exposes in me something and rather than change I stick my feelings back inside, hide my issues, tuck away my fears and pretend like I’m just a pretty painted doll. I load back up all the junk He had exposed and hold tightly to what I know rather than trust Him in the unknown.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

I want my next year to be my best year.

My honest year.

My brave year.

My filled with solid goodness year.

What about you? What do you need from God this upcoming year? What are you willing to give to God this upcoming year? I’d love to hear from you!

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