Tag Archives: Who Am I

Freedom Writers

My husband and I watched an amazing movie the other night. It’s not a new movie (it’s rare we get out of the house to watch a new movie at the theater). We found this one on Netflix. The title struck me, “Freedom Writers.”

The description also:

“While her at-risk students are reading classics such as “The Diary of Anne Frank,” a young teacher asks them to keep journals about their troubled lives — hoping they can apply history’s lessons to break the cycle of violence and despair.”

The film began with scenes from the LA riots of the early 1990s, and I recalled when I was nine, watching the drama unfold on the news, seeing images of cops beating an innocent man and feeling sick to my stomach, wondering how anyone could be so cruel; what could possess them to use their power and title for evil.

The movie follows the first couple years that a young woman, Erin Gruwell, played by Hilary Swank, teaches English in a high school. The classrooms are reeling from what they called “forced integration.” Gruwell faces biased mindsets from the other teachers, who teach because they have to; disrespect and anger from the students, who know little but hatred for those outside their respective circles of race and culture.

After failing in other efforts, the teacher gives the students each notebook where they can keep a personal journal. She assures them it won’t be graded on content. “If you want me to read it,” she says, “just put it on the shelf. I will keep it locked except during class so you can put it there.”

The next time she looks, the shelf is full of notebooks. She begins to read and for the first time, she sees life from their perspective, through their eyes. It breaks her heart and it changes her life.

Those teenagers becomes her purpose in a way that the young woman cannot explain even to those closest to her. In her quest to make a lasting difference in their lives, she sacrifices much. To earn money for them to be able to have new books and go on field trip – when some had never left the suburb they lived in – she takes on a second job, and then a third.

Perhaps one of the reasons the movie struck a deep chord in me is that it combines writing with purpose, two things I’m starting to recognize are my “life themes.”

The movie is based on a true story.  I don’t want to say too much, because I want you to watch the movie, to watch this woman’s life focus transform … and how it affected the teenagers that no one thought had a chance at anything.

That’s what purpose can do. It is that inexplicable feeling that reaches deep inside and whispers, “This is why you are here. You were made for this.” It might be one thing. It might be many. But it enters your heart and fills the hole you never knew existed. And when you follow it, you find great joy, even if, as the teacher’s father puts it in the movie, you are “Blessed with a burden.”

And it hurts sometimes. Because it’s opening up to someone or to something, your heart gets involved … and when it does, there is the very real threat of pain, disappointment, loss, sacrifice.

But it’s worth it. Living for a sense of purpose. Following that rich passion where it leads is always worth it. Because it changes hearts, changes lives, and begins to change the world.

I know the next book to add to my “to-read” list.

More

Who am I

To whisper a prayer in the wind

And know

It will be heard

 

Who am I

To dream of wondrous things

And know one day

They will come true

 

Who am I

To follow a path in the dark

And know

Where I am going

 

Who am I

To be told I am more

Than what I see

And know

 

More …

More than my choices

More than my mistakes

More than my regrets

More than all I’ve done

Or haven’t done

 

More than all these

I know

For I am His

I Am Yours

The quest for individuality continues. Its vague evanescence beckons, “Follow me.” So we follow, adopting whatever lifestyle or actions it tells us will help demonstrate our individuality.

We wear clothing that we think will somehow express who we are. We look for things that will make us feel complete: friendships or relationships, drinking or eating, gaming or partying – ever in search of that something that will make the heart whole.

Still, the question beckons from deep inside: Who am I?

The answer we give is determined by many factors; sadly, it is rarely determined correctly.

We can search on the internet, “Who am I?” and find a slew of self-discovery questions. Answer them, press submit, and discover who and what you are meant to be. Perhaps at times these are helpful, but more often than not we would probably like to respond with, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

And the quest continues. Who am I?

We can seek the answer from others. Some of them might be honest and tell you what they see. Some might be hurtful, or seek their own gain from the relationship. Some might be just trying to discover who they are themselves. Some might not care at all, and leave you feeling that you really don’t matter to anyone. We mirror the reflection that they send back, leaving us more confused than before.

Who am I?

How can I find myself, discover who I am meant to be? Is there a “meant to be”? A destiny? Or is it all just going to fade away into nothingness sooner or later?

Not long ago, I went through a time that my heart felt both full and empty, and I felt broken, fallen and confused. The future was a bleak and colorless blur. And I felt the purpose that drove me from the time I was a child was nothing more than a hazy question with no answer.

I heard a song that began with the question, “Who am I?”

A fading flower, a wispy wave, a momentary mist…and yet it didn’t matter. It wasn’t about who I am, or what I’ve done. “But because of what You’ve done…” “Because of Who You are…”

The realization, both humbling and beautiful, reached deep into my heart and picked up the fallen pieces.

“You’ve told me who I am.”

I finally saw who that was, and knew that nothing else really mattered.

“I am Yours.”

When we belong to Him, the quest ends and we find ourselves – loved, cherished, and chosen for a purpose.