How to be Authentic

Authentic.  Nine letters, big word.

Another word we throw around, another word we want to be and yet when we settle down to define it, to actually implement it, we struggle just a bit.  How do we put skin on that exactly? Let’s go there.

 

I have a thing for ridiculously priced handbags.  There, I admitted it.

I hope that’s not a sin.  If so, I might be in trouble.

The fact that I have a weakness for pricey bags should not however be confused with the idea that I own a gaggle of them.  I don’t.  I owe that primarily to the fact that I am married to the very voice of reason and practicality, neither of which seem to fully appreciate the beauty of fine handbags.

Had I not married this wonderfully frugal man I would probably own an exquisite collection of fine handbags and have absolutely no cash in the bank.  So I’m crazy thankful for him…about 97% of the time.  The other 3% of the time I wish for a new handbag.

Keeping it real, people.

 

My affinity for handbags goes deep.  It began when I was about 8 or 9 years old and the bag that caught my eye belonged to an aunt I just adored.  Hers was dark blue, the leather sturdy and flawless, the zipper smooth and strong.  It’s craftsmanship showed.

I’d never seen a handbag like it and even my undiscerning and immature eye could tell it was different.

The emblem and insignia included a picture of a duck (I know that sounds a bit odd right now but somehow, it only struck me as awesome back then) and it was emblazoned with a beautiful leather patch that boldly proclaimed this was not just a purse, this was something special.  Anyone else remember the old Dooney & Bourke emblem?  Yep, I set my sights on this bag and decided, at 9 years old, I would have “made it” in life if ever I owned a bag with a duck on it.

Some kids want to be president; I just wanted a duck bag.

Here’s the interesting thing.  I don’t much remember paying attention to handbags before I noticed the one that belonged to my aunt.  I knew nothing about handbags, nothing about brand names or leather qualities or how many hours the average person would have to work to purchase such a purse.  And yet, even my untrained eye knew it was different, something real and special, authentic.

There was no scratchy leather, no flimsy straps, no unraveled stitching or squeaky metal fittings.  It was true to it’s design, made of the finest materials, authentic.

 

Now part of my love for that handbag had more to do with my aunt than anything else.  To me that handbag meant a woman who could laugh until she cried.  A woman who made every activity a party.  A woman who knew lovely and brought it with her wherever she went.  A woman who invited me to stay with her for a week every summer, who introduced me to Ben & Jerry’s and made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.  That was all wrapped up in a duck bag for me.

As I’ve aged my ideals of what it means to have “made it” in life have changed a bit (thankfully) but my appreciation for a lovely leather handbag has not.  If you’re brave enough, next time you’re in a nice department store, walk by the handbag section and peruse a bit.  Don’t look at the price tags.  I repeat, do not look at the price tags.  Just grab a bag and try it out.  The lining, the pockets, the feet that make a smart tapping sound every time you set it on a hard surface, the grommets, you get the sense that nothing was compromised, no detail missed.  The designer used the very best materials available to make the very loveliest handbag they could.  Sounding familiar at all, friends?

 

 

That is how I define authentic.  True to form.  No cheap imitation or counterfeit.  No second rate knock-off.

Maybe I’ve been confused all these years.  Maybe more than wanting to own a beautiful handbag, in a way, I want to be one.

I want the details of how I live to match my core values.  I want to be true to the form I was created to be, true to the form of my Creator.  No cheap imitation or counterfeit.  I want to be a woman who understands who she is, Whose she is, so fully that it becomes intrinsic to my actions, my words, my thoughts, my very heartbeat.  No contradiction, no confusion, real.

I want an authentic even a 9 year old can spot.

Getting there isn’t always easy, it takes intention.  See how these steps build on one another?

 

 

We must know what we truly believe, in order to live it out.  Mull this over, friends.  Relativism is a pretty shaky foundation, one finding increasing popularity, yet, in the end, provides no foundation whatsoever.  Know what you believe.  Study Truth.  Match your thoughts and ideas up to The Light and discard the chaff.

Live it bravely.  There is a certain confidence, a certain boldness that comes from fully knowing who you are and what you were created be.  If you believe it, own it.  Every Dooney & Bourke handbag I’ve ever seen is living out it’s purpose boldly and unashamed.  Let’s take a clue from that.  It’s a purse, people, a purse.  How much more are we fitted to change our world if we bravely own what we are created to be?

Fight for authenticity.  We live in a world where the temptation for compromise is great, yet the rewards of authenticity are always greater.  Know what you believe and live it bravely, friends.  Your authenticity can be spotted from a mile away.