Hotel Living

I just tucked the girls in to bed for our fourth night in Abuja. Starting our life in Nigeria at a hotel definitely has it’s advantages. It has been a vacation for this tired mama. It has allowed me to spend time swimming and playing games with the girls. Laughing, listening, cuddling. Filling up their love banks. It’s good. God knew we needed this.

One fun part of life at the hotel is watching the daily display of Nigerian fashion. Many of the women and the men come through the hotel dressed in exquisite clothing. Bright, bold, tailor made dresses, flowing kaftans and statement making headpieces. The best of Abuja and her visitors come through this hotel and its a wonder to behold.

As the girls and I walk through the lobby on the way to the pool it feels almost disrespectful to be wearing our swimsuit covers and flip flops. We get looks, but I don’t think it is because we are underdressed. I am sure they are looking at us with the same questions as I have for them. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” Caucasian people are not rare around here, but three little white girls with goggles on their heads and pool rings in their arms certainly are unique.

I have found myself overly paranoid about the girls behavior, especially their noise level. Even at the pool, where we are often the only ones swimming but many are eating and lounging, I tell them to keep it down. I don’t want them to ruin someones experience. I don’t want to come across as entitled Americans or draw any more attention to ourselves. I’m not quite sure how comfortable we should be here.

While it is a good life lesson to learn how to act in an environment like this, it has made me think about what I am teaching them. “Be good. “Be respectful.” “Be aware.” Should that be the message of their childhood? Maybe this week (or two or three), but does God want me to raise just good, respectful, quite young ladies? I don’t think he does.

So, if not “good” then what? This recovering “good girl” doesn’t want her daughters to have her same pitfalls of striving for perfection and fear of others opinions and expectations. I don’t want them to believe that their worth lies in them being good. I want them to know that they are worthy because they are loved. That they are not loved because they are beautiful, but beautiful because they are loved.

This all sounds good in my head, but living it out is hard. Being good is active. It is something you do. Follow the rules and you are good. But, being loved is passive. It is received. It has nothing to do with what you do, just who you are. I’m not sure I know how to just BE loved, let alone model it for my girls. I find myself craving a “how to” book or a checklist or something. Something I can actively do to passively be. Oh, the irony.

The truth is that there is nothing for me to do, but to believe in the work that Jesus has already done. He did the doing, my part is to believe and to rest in it. To preach the gospel to myself everyday. To recognize and remove the idols of my life from the throne of my heart and to guide my girls in doing the same.

This week laying down those idols means being comfortable with my super white, travel bloated, unpolished body and enjoying my goofy, giggly girls, because what good is hotel living if you can’t relax?