Just as I got done determining at 9:30 p.m. I needed to shut it down for the day and head upstairs and get ready for bed, (I am usually an 11:30-12:00 kind of girl and my body hates me when the alarm goes off at 4:30 a.m. for my workout.) I paused from finishing up dishes to sit down and write. It's now 9:31....people, my best laid plans always fail. But I justify this as journaling and so therefore it is, well, justified. Right?!
Anyhoot, as I was washing sludge out of bowls, scraping crust out of pans and feeling my fingers began to wrinkle, I wondered. I wondered why today I felt like invisibility would be nice. I wondered how it is that one day I could feel so outgoing and the next subconsciously long for anonymity. To live in my cave, nestled close to the ones who truly know me.
And then somehow I connected some mental dots.
Last night I was eating dinner with a group of women before a broadcast I had gone to watch. The conversation was humorous and we were all having a good time. Then the conversation turned, in jest, towards making fun of people who look a certain way. But by a certain way, I don't mean the people who you typically associate with being bullied. No, this was kind of a reverse bullying. The people being referred to were those ladies who otherwise look like they have it all together. Perky boobs, even tans, smooth, wrinkle free skin, perfect hair and nails, you get the idea. One of the ladies was joking about how she wished ill on people like that. That those are the people you want to see fall flat on their face or in her words "fart in public".
I chuckled uneasily, but inside I groaned. Why do women do this to each other? It is said that even in jest there is truth. So even if it was a comedy routine, you know that person who was saying those things really felt that way. Don't get me wrong, what little I know of this gal, I love her. She is witty, fun, beautiful, talented and has a personality you can't help but be drawn to. So I didn't understand the insecurity she blamed for wishing ill on those Barbie types. Didn't she understand how fabulous she was?
I couldn't help but think that we all have motivations for whatever our -isms are in life. Maybe the "Barbie types" (if we want to label them as such, but really I am not comfortable with that) do what they do to fulfill a need and that works for them? My main thought just was, why do we label each other? Why do we form opinions of people whose hearts we don't know? Whether you are skinny or plump, crafty or spartan, intelligent or simple, witty or dull, boisterous or quiet, or whatever scheme of opposites you could throw on the spectrum, why do we care? Why do we compare? Why do we look to others to validate how we feel about ourselves?
But then as this string of thoughts was flowing through my brain I realized, I myself am guilty as charged. Because the whole conversation left me sadly wondering who have I been labeled as? The craving to be a ghost started to sneak in. What conclusions have people drawn about me? It left me feeling naked in the middle of a crowded room. We are all seen everyday of our lives. But there is something gloriously gratifying about being seen. Not for our exteriors, but for our hearts, our minds, our motivations and who we are beyond face value. And yet, as a society and as individuals there is such a draw to write in stone who a person is and what their worth is, based on what only the eye sees.
And that frankly makes my heart very sad.
Last week in Primary (the organization for children in my church, where I volunteer), my awesome friend's daughter, Autumn, got up and read from the book "You are Special" by Max Lucado. In it you follow the journey of a little puppet who struggles with other people's views of him too. In the end he discovers that all that really matters is what the woodcarver, his Maker, thinks of him. It's moments like this I find myself so incredibly grateful to have children in my life, both at home and at church. Because they help me see things as clearly as they should be seen. And when life finds a way of streaking the glass of our perception, there are those little hands that help wipe it clear again.
As I type, I know in my heart, my little light wasn't meant to hide out in a cave, isolated from the world. Even if some days that feels like the safest place to be. I know I just have to continue to work on me and know that my best efforts are good enough for my Maker....and hope other people come to realize the same for themselves. Because while we are all so very different, we are His, and just right in His eyes.
