Lost and Found: Discovering Identity in the Heart of God

Jan 18, 2021

4 min read

The one place a girl with low self-esteem, daddy issues, and insecurities about her weight should not find herself it is at a university miles and miles away from home. Not that this is an issue. It only becomes an issue when her focus is not education, but validation from people. Namely, boys.

I remember the warm, spring air hit my face as I walked out of the Barnes and Noble bookstore on the campus of the University of Southern Mississippi. Since I was a little girl, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would go there. Don’t ask how I knew. I just knew Hattiesburg, MS and the school, with black and gold as it colors and a peculiar eagle named Seymour, would be apart of my history and life story.

Looking back, I laugh. I laugh because at the time, I was so nervous and fearful of what the journey would entail. I’d never been away from my family for an extended period of time.

Somewhere working my Blackberry Torch during my Freshman year.

I often wear a brave face, but on the inside I tremble like an elderly man who can’t keep warm during winter.

Blackberry Torch. Check! Khaki Polo hat that been tried and true for the majority of my high school memory. Check! Sperry’s. Check! I should’ve added the following to that list:

Brokenness. Check!
Fear. Check!
Low-self esteem. Check!
People-pleasing. Check!
Approval-addiction. Check!

I remember walking into the living room of my grandma’s house and looking at my college stuff fill the small, unimpressionable space. A hot pink Sterilite crate from Walmart, a plastic jewelry box, a cute pink and black twin-sized comforter set from Walmart, stuffed animals, my honor cords from my high school graduation, my mom’s old Revlon curling iron, and more stuff that would collect dust in the small quarters of my dorm room.

My mom’s 2011 Ford Focus got us from Jackson to Hattiesburg. It was loaded with all my valuables. Every ounce of hand-me-down stuff given to me. Few things purchased. Little to nothing new.

After walking around campus for a few and getting acclimated to where I would spend the next few years, I saw this brown-skinned girl with shorts. She seemed to be looking at a paper map with what appeared to be her mother next to her. My mom and I got a little closer to make out their appearance.

“Jessica?!”

“Hey, girl!”

Fried chicken is a southern delicacy. Couple it with ooey-gooey mac-n-cheese, collard greens, sweet potatoes, hot, buttery cornbread (apparently, Jiffy cornbread is a sin for Black folk who know how to cook in the South), and ice-cold sweet tea with a little diabetes and hypertension, and you have something called “Southern Comfort Food”.

Well, I am no cannibal, but seeing my best friend Jessica standing there with her mom was a source of comfort and the equivalent of sitting before a spread of southern delicacies on a Southern Sunday afternoon.

Jess & I at a college event during our Freshman year.

I am a firm believer that the world would be a better place if there were more Jessica’s in it. Friends since 6th grade, our experiences at USM would warrant that the word “Best” be put in front of “Friends”.

After bidding our moms a goodbye and reassuring them of our adulthood and our full capability of being responsible college students, Jessica and I found ourselves taking a small tour of campus. It lead us to the practice football field just as practice was coming to a close.

The gate opened up and released a swift herd of sweating, pulsating flesh of various colors, sizes, and well-defined shapes. All of which were of the male persuasion.

From the looks of it, and from the expressions on my face and Jessica’s (mine being of pure delight), I knew the next few years at the University of Southern Mississippi were going to be interesting. Very interesting.

And, in fact, next few years at USM were indeed “interesting,” but not in the way my naive, approval-seeking heart expected. They were years of searching—sometimes in the wrong places—for identity, worth, and love. It took heartache, a lot of missteps, and many nights of tears to finally see that what I had been looking for couldn’t be found in validation from others, fleeting moments of attention, or even the comforts of home.

It was in those broken moments, surrounded by the noise of college life yet feeling so alone, that I began to sense God’s gentle nudge. His voice wasn’t loud or overbearing. It was a quiet invitation to discover who I was created to be, not through the eyes of others, but through His eyes.

I thought I was miles away from everything familiar, but in reality, I was on the cusp of encountering the One who had been with me all along.

If you’re in a season of seeking—whether it’s validation, love, or a sense of belonging—I want you to know that what you’re looking for can’t be found in people, achievements, or fleeting experiences. It’s found in the One who created you, who sees you fully, and who loves you completely.

Heavenly Father, thank You for being the constant in our ever-changing lives. Thank You for seeing us, even when we feel unseen. For loving us, even when we feel unworthy. Lord, help us to turn to You instead of seeking validation from the world. Remind us daily that our worth is found in You alone. Fill the broken places of our hearts with Your love, and guide us on the journey to becoming the women You’ve called us to be. Amen.

If my story resonates with you, let’s keep the conversation going. Share your own experiences in the comments, or send me a message—I’d love to connect. If you’re ready to take the first step toward healing and discovering your true worth, I encourage you to pause, pray, and invite God into the journey.

You don’t have to do this alone, and you don’t have to have it all figured out. Together, let’s walk this path of growth and grace.