doomed doormat?

My mom is convinced I'm a doormat. My reply is that at least I am no longer a habitual doormat, but rather, a doormat on occasion. One of those occasions arose this weekend, and in sharing it with my mother, she informed me that-- yes, Lindsey-- you are a doormat. I guess this means that in this particular situation I was allowing someone to walk all over me. That should hurt, in theory, but for some reason-- I think I volunteered for this doormat position as opposed to another, more daunting and seemingly painful experience. But as my mother (and a very good mother she is, by the way) she felt I should have opted neither for doormat nor for daunting painful something, and rather stood up for myself and just say no. Hmm... Well, I know that she's right, but sometimes doormat status just seems so appealing.

I mean-- think about it...
I am here to serve and love. That is my function. And I belong at the feet of those I want to serve. Down there is where I belong. BUT-- there is a line between being AT the feet of those you love, and being UNDER the feet of those who wish to walk all over you. I think this is what Mom was getting at. I think sometimes, in an effort to show them I want to serve them, I pass that line and fall from servant to doormat. As a servant I show love, but as a doormat I show doormat. I don't know if the love vibe comes through from underneath their feet. The only vibe that seems to come through at that point is that I am weak. I'm not weak. Not in that sense, at least. In fact, it usually pisses me off when Christians won't stand up for themselves as humans. But that dang line-- the one between servant and doormat-- I miss it all the time-- and usually voluntarily! Geez. But hey (and here comes my new favorite mantra) at least I'm self aware ;-)