I lit the candles. The cookie cake was cooling on the counter. I dipped a strawberry in the coconut whipped cream, savoring the moment. I was pleased with how clean the house was despite the four kids and four dogs running amuck.
I was ready.
Kristine came over with her two kids, adding noise and chaos.
I helped her set up the jewelry and by 6:45 we were ready.
Her husband picked up her two kids. Doug took my three out on adventure.
The minutes ticked. At 7:15 it was fairly obvious that no one was coming. I took a picture wearing some of the new Noonday pieces. We sipped the sangria and enjoyed the (gluten-free) desserts I had made.
Matthew got home and asked me if I felt sad that no one came to the party.
I did. I enjoy having people over and feeding them. I enjoy hearing the stories and the conversations and making connections with people.
I didn’t care so much about selling jewelry—it was just an excuse to see people I don’t often get to see.
But as I rest in this emotion, one thing is clear. I feel sad that no one came, but I am not experiencing it as rejection.
I think in some ways, I was prepared for no one to come. Only 7 people RSVP’d out of 60 so the odds were not in our favor. And I decided that whatever happened, it would be enough. But it’s hard in those moments when you’ve cooked and cleaned and prepped and opened your home to have people not show up.
I have been hurt a lot by these kinds of moments. Feeling inadequate, and unloved. Knowing if the invitation came from someone else, people would be all over themselves to show up. What makes her more lovable than me? Bitterness and jealousy were always moments behind, fueling the comparisons.
But this time…this time I embraced the moment for what it was. I enjoyed the time with my friend who I don’t see often without our kids. I got to feed a few people. My kids are thrilled about the leftover cookies. The candles created light. I knew I was enough. I felt sad, but not rejected.
I have learned no one else can make me feel this—if I rely on the outward circumstances to speak adequacy over me, I will feel empty more often than I feel full. But when I rest in my enough-ness the outside circumstances don’t get to speak value over me one way or the other.
I am enough.