The ABC’s of Me

J

I had a hard time coming up with something to write about for this letter, thus the lack of a post yesterday.  The first one that came to mind I recognized as way too transparent, and not something I really wanted to delve into in front of all of the internet (as if all the internet is reading this...yeah)  So I thought about a few different ones....

 

Jobs- I'd write about all of the jobs that I have had over the years.  From babysitting, to McDonald's, to day care, to bartending and waitressing, to teaching, to cleaning a church, and back to teaching again.  Eh...boring.

 

Josh-I'd write about the man child that he has become and what it is like to have your beautiful baby boy grow up into this awesome man and have someone else fulfill the role of favorite woman in his life.  But then, I would have to go back and do Charlotte for C and Daryl for D.

 

Jail- I'd write about how I know all the rules about visiting someone in jail, what its like to visit someone in jail, and what I learned from those experiences.  But then that took me to places where my children might not be comfortable.

 

Um, Jellybeans?  Jelly?  My first boyfriend ever, Jeff Sanders?

 

So then, it brought me back to the transparent one.  So hear it goes.

 

Jealousy

I have always been a jealous person.  Not in the sense that I wanted things that other people had, per se.  I never coveted people's homes, or their clothes, or the toys they had.  Nope, I skipped right over that part and just wanted to be them.  It started in fourth grade, right after we had moved to Alabama.  I wanted to be Becky Cardwell.  I grew my hair out like hers (and wouldn't you know, she cut her hair right after I achieved the long hair), and wanted to be just like her.  Because in my mind, she was perfect.  She was gorgeous, thin, outgoing, sweet, popular, and everyone loved her.  She was also my friend.  Throughout the rest of my life, I morphed myself into different versions of myself to be like other people.  To be what I thought other people wanted me to be. 

 

As an adult, it took a different form.  It wasn't so much that I envied what people looked like, but the qualities they had.  They were more confident, more outgoing, not afraid to speak their mind.  Others were more disciplined, happier, more fun.  Still others were more spiritually mature, more giving, more positive.  More organized, cleaner, more pulled together.   Better cook, better housekeeper, better wife.   I always wanted to be more like someone else.

 

This summer, at the ripe old age of almost 45 (argh), I have come to finally realize that I can not be anyone else.  I can not force myself to be like anyone else.  I am me.  Wonderfully and fearfully made.  With all of the many flaws and weaknesses.  And the best I can do is not be more like someone else, but to be the best me.

 

Eat healthier and exercise to be a healthier ME.  Keep the house cleaner adn stay on top of things so that I would feel better.  Accept that I am not outgoing and not loud and would rather be holed up with a book than out at a party.  Accept that I need work in certain areas of my life and work on those to better myself and bring glory to God. 

 

God loves me just because I am myself.  My husband didn't fall in love with the prettier, spunkier, more organized, better housekeeper.  He fell in love with me.  My children love me.

And when I think about it that way, being me is pretty wonderful.