Last weekend, something happened that changed me.
No one else could see it.
There were no fireworks.
No burning bush.
No booming voice from heaven.
Just a woman finally meeting herself after 50 years.
Looking back, I don’t think I realized how far away from myself I had wandered.
Maybe I never really knew myself at all.
Were there glimpses? Probably.
But just like most people, I was afraid to be me…the real me.
You know how Eminem says, “Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?”
I think we all have those moments.
Who am I?
Is this really who I am?
Do I even know who I am?
For so long, I lived to please other people, manage other people’s feelings, anticipate what others needed, and give in order to receive love. Until one day I couldn’t anymore.
One day my survival self—the person I thought I was for most of my life—finally said:
“Nope. I’m done. I’m tired.”
Or maybe my survival self simply got tired of carrying all the masks. Maybe it was exhausted from performing in the big show and finally surrendered to my authentic self.
For a long time, I thought healing meant getting rid of my survival self.
I was wrong.
My survival self kept me alive.
She protected me the best way she knew how.
Healing wasn’t about choosing one version of myself over the other.
It wasn’t about my authentic self winning and my survival self losing.
It was about bringing them back together.
The survival self and the authentic self were never meant to live separately.
They were always two halves of the same whole.
And somewhere along this journey, they stopped fighting each other and finally came home.
Either way, I’m grateful authentic Keri Jo finally emerged.
It only took 50 years.
But I’m grateful it didn’t take a lifetime.
Over these past years, I’ve watched myself change. I’ve felt myself change. And it has been difficult. Gut-wrenching difficult.
I understand butterflies differently now.
Never again will I take one for granted.
They go through stages: feeding and growth, preparation, transformation, metamorphosis, and emergence.
I feel like I’ve lived every one of those stages—and then some.
I think when most people ask God for a miracle, they are asking for an outward miracle. Something they can see. Something others can see.
But last weekend, I received my miracle.
Some people may not call it a miracle.
I do.
Because I felt it.
I am it.
I am my miracle.
I’ve always loved music. Lyrics speak to me. Maybe they speak to everyone. But Friday, June 6th was different.
I had planned to spend the day cleaning my space. Usually, I either listen to worship music or clean in silence. Cleaning has always been meditative for me.
Meditation, for me, isn’t sitting cross-legged on the floor in silence.
God didn’t make me to sit still.
The week before, I noticed myself revisiting pieces of childhood. Chocolate pudding and Cool Whip dessert. My favorite mom spaghetti. Making friendship bracelets with a little friend.
June 6th was no different.
I turned on one of my favorite childhood groups, Wham!, and Apple Music created a station.
Or maybe God did.
Because I’m telling you, the songs that showed up felt heaven-sent. Every single one carried a message.
At first, I thought the messages were about other people.
I think we all do that.
We focus outside ourselves—on people, places, circumstances, and relationships.
But somewhere during that day, the focus shifted.
The songs became a conversation.
A conversation to me.
By me.
For me.
Church of the Poison Mind – Culture Club
Stop believing every thought.
Freedom – Wham!
Stop performing.
I’m Still Standing – Elton John
You survived.
Kokomo – Beach Boys
Relax.
The Longest Time – Billy Joel
Welcome home.
Monkey – George Michael
Put down the masks.
Careless Whisper – George Michael
Stop abandoning yourself.
Hungry Like the Wolf – Duran Duran
You’ve been searching for yourself.
In the Air Tonight – Phil Collins
You’ve been waiting for this.
Locked Out of Heaven – Bruno Mars
Stop standing outside yourself.
Edge of Heaven – Wham!
You’re almost there.
Waterloo – ABBA
Old patterns surrender.
War – Culture Club
The battle is over.
Dancing Machine – Jackson 5
Now live.
Isn’t She Lovely – Stevie Wonder
Celebrate who you’ve become.
All Through the Night – Cyndi Lauper
Rest.
We Didn’t Start the Fire – Billy Joel
Stop carrying what was never yours.
Kiss on My List – Hall & Oates
I found myself. I stopped abandoning myself.
Never Gonna Give You Up – Rick Astley
I’m never going to give myself up again.
I Knew You Were Waiting for Me – George Michael & Aretha Franklin
I was there all along, waiting to be found…by me.
Loverboy – Billy Ocean
My survival self and authentic self both belong here. Together they make a whole.
This Is It – Kenny Loggins
This is the moment I stopped looking outside myself.
For Once in My Life – Stevie Wonder
I’m not looking for myself anymore. I found her.
Freedom ’90 – George Michael
I had faith I would find myself. I did. Now the freedom begins.
For the first time in my life, I understood that God had been calling my name all along.
Not whispering.
Calling.
Maybe even yelling.
And when that didn’t work, serenading me through 80s music.
My healing opened not only the eyes of my heart, but the ears of my heart.
I finally understood that the voice I had been searching for wasn’t outside of me.
It had been there all along.
Waiting patiently.
Waiting for me to stop performing.
Waiting for me to put down the masks.
Waiting for me to come home.
And when I finally did, I was able to answer:
“Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”