After participating and winning NaNoWriMo, I left writing alone for a while. I wanted time to think and breathe again, to refill my muse, if you will, before I actually finished my novel. Unfortunately, the past few weeks have not been particularly restful or ideal for daydreaming an ending for my NaNo.

Instead, I have been swamped with concerts, school, and various Christimasy things that demand time and energy. This past week has been especially bad, a flurry of the unproductive. I’m beyond thankful that Christmas break has begun. If I don’t unwind, I’ll snap like a used rubber band.

Interestingly, I found myself pondering non-fiction writing for the first time in quite a while. It came when I was considering the terrifying fact that another year has passed. Since my birthday is at the very beginning of a new year, I have the opportunity to ponder both another new calender year and another year of my life. I’m not sure what the connection is between my recent musings and the life questioning that begins in the week of the new year. However, there is one somewhere. It’s just buried.

I draw inspiration from the strangest places. One thing that hit me was actually from Cartoon Network’s “Lego Ninjago.” The majority of it is cliche, but I watch it with my little siblings despite its shortcomings. At one point, the characters are searching for their “full potential” (which is never really explained, I must add).

When the ninja called Zane discovers that he is a robot, he is numb with shock and refuses to leave with his friends. Examining his blueprints, he reactivates his memory and remembers his father for the first time. This knowledge soothes him, and he runs out to join his friends, only to find them under attack.

When the battle goes in favor of their enemy, Zane begins to float and then faces his enemy. “Nothing can hold me back now!” he shouts. “I know who I am!”

Freeze for a moment. Have you ever felt like that?

In this culture, people, especially young people, are pressured to be the same as those around them and yet celebrate differences, the unique design of every person. You can be anything you want to be. The only rule is that no rules should be put on who you are.

We, as inhabitant of this culture, often try to find ways to define ourselves. Based on what you like, what you listen to, what you watch, what you eat and what you don’t, what you look like, what you read, what your passion is, what four letter sequence that supposedly describes your personality… The list is endless. I find it amusing as I struggle to find the perfect words to describe who I am. It makes me wonder if words are not powerful enough to classify personalities.

I am blonde. I am homeschooled. I am crazy. I am a fangirl. I’ve read this. I’ve seen that. I can’t dance. Etc.

The need to classify oneself is addicting, is it not?

And here’s the conclusion I reached.

“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

In the end, I will stand before the judgement seat, and it will not matter if I am blonde, if I sing, or if I can’t dance. Everything that I have ever been or claimed to be will not be of consequence.

All that will matter is that my old self is dead, and my Jesus has rescued me.

“My life is hid with Christ on high, with Christ, my Savior and my God.”

That’s where my identity lies, and it is there that I will grow.