A friend posted on social media that she feels like she is not enough. There was a string of responses, from people wanting to reassure her that she is, and urging her to take care of herself. 

 

I wonder if it helped. 

 

Sometimes emotions have their own agenda. They insist on being expressed, and even an iron clad argument does little to erode their force. If I had much faith in a five point case, I would remind her that she takes care of her many children and father and granddaughter, runs marathons, volunteers at church, puts food on the table, and probably even does laundry. Though I have never asked. 

 

There does seem to be an impasse. On one hand we can assert that everyone is worthwhile. A perfect child of God. Unconditionally lovable. But then the same people are told no, I won't hire you, or date you, or invite you to my party. Sometimes we are even left behind when people decide we are not enough of a reason to stay. 

 

What does "enough" even mean? It is not a quantity you can measure, like the flour in a recipe. Anyone who has ever wondered if the soup would stretch to satisfy unexpected guests, or insatiable teenage boys, and marveled to see a small puddle left in the bowl when everyone rose from the table, knows that "enough" can surprise you. Like a host of other mothers I have cobbled together gifts to slip under the tree, worried that they would not actually evoke joy, and then marveled to realize that Christmas came anyway. 

 

Feeling confident that we have achieved our personal apex of fulfillment is amazing. Those instances when we planned well and executed a goal are a chance to pat ourselves on the back and rake in the accolades. 

 

But there is another sensation, not so splashy, of looking at our own unworthiness and discovering that such metrics don't matter at all.