Way back before I had children, I was introduced to a kids' book by Max Lucado about creatures called Wemmicks. I only read the entire book one time, about mmmm...8 or 9 years ago?.... but completely remember the concept.
These little Wemmick creatures walked around and put 'stickers' on each other: a red dot for negative, a gold star for positive. So these guys would be walking around with lots of negatives and/or positives, and would be judged by how others saw them.
One Wemmick walked around with no stickers on him. The others were mystified. They would try to put red dots or gold stars on him, but they slid off of him. Wouldn't stick. This one guy did not care about how others saw him, because he knew Who Made Him, and how special he was to his Maker, so nothing 'stuck' to him. That's the nutshell version. I never forgot it.
The same concept works in our lives, with a twist.
The adultery plastered red dots all over me, and I looked down at them and felt completely unworthy as a woman, person, wife, YouNameIt. I felt like one big heartbroken Loser.
But in the midst of it all there were God McNuggets - i.e. gold stars - scattered around. Gifts of hope in the middle of the deepest despair. But they didn't stick, and I needed them to. I focused on the red dots, not the gold stars. And I lashed out of from a place of hurt and loss of control.
Why do we believe the worst about ourselves? Why, when I am thinking about a particular car, that is mainly what I see. For example, the new Toyota FJ Cruiser. I dig this car, and now I see it everywhere because it's what my internal radar tracks. Same with negative self-images. I heard second-hand a few weeks ago "If she does find herself single, she would be an amazing catch" and I immediately pfffft'd that comment. Because, hell, if I was such an amazing catch wouldn't The Husband know it? He's a smart guy. Maybe I am a great catch in the wrong net?
