All I’ve ever wanted was to be tan. Okay well maybe not all I’ve ever wanted, but it was a big chunk of it. After moving to California ten years ago, I quickly came to the realization that I am quite pale, and that is not a good thing. I’ve spent a good chunk of time and a good chunk of money on trying to correct this. Tanning beds and hours by the pool mostly, at one point I even considered getting a spray tan, hoping it would last longer and work a little better. But the bottom line is that at the end of all this, I’m still going to be white, and I won’t be satisfied.
As much as I’ve always stuck out back at home with my pale skin and my bright blonde hair, it only gets worse when I travel outside of the United States. So far in my journeys overseas, including previous trips before the world race, I have been to Brazil, Rwanda, Thailand, and Cambodia, which are all ethnically dark-skinned places. In Rwanda I was a mazungu, in Thailand a farang, and in Cambodia a barang; all code words for foreigner/white person. I can’t hide if I want to; I just stick out.
The other day I was walking to a nearby store with Seang (‘Say-ong,’ our translator), and we somehow got on the conversation of skin color. I told him how in America it isn’t a good thing to have such fair skin, and how I’ve spent significant time and money on trying to change it. He explained to me how in Cambodia it is just the opposite, and how Khmer people desire light-colored skin, and often spend money on trying to achieve it. In fact, it is almost impossible to try and find lotion or body wash that doesn’t include whitening product within the ingredients. Also, Cambodians usually wear clothing that protects their skin from the sun, so that their skin does not get any darker. Now that may not sound like a huge sacrifice, but remember that right now it is mid eighties with ninety percent humidity—and it isn’t even summer. Not a fun place to be wearing long sleeves and pants.
So Seang and I arrived at the store and were mid-purchase, waiting for our change to arrive, when an older woman behind me reached out and grabbed my calf. She grabbed as much as her hand would allow, shaking it and laughing while muttering something in Khmer that I could obviously not understand. I asked Seang what she was saying, and he told me that she was saying how beautiful my skin was. How’s that for irony, eh? I can definitely say that back at home I have never been told that I have beautiful skin; but here in Cambodia, for some odd reason unbeknownst to me, they actually think my skin is attractive.
It got me to thinking. What else am I never satisfied with? I wish my hair were straight, I wish I was a brunette; I wish I could have been a better athlete, and on and on the list goes. Then there’s other things I desire that aren’t physical: I wish my computer was nicer, I wish my car were newer, I wish I had more money, and on and on the list goes. When is it ever enough? And here’s where the irony comes in… the things that I tend to not be satisfied with are the same things that other people desire. I want straight hair, but someone else wishes they had my wavy hair; I wish I were a brunette, but somebody else wishes they had my blonde hair; I wish I could have been a better athlete, but some athlete else may desire a quality or characteristic that I have. It’s never good enough, we’re never satisfied, and we just sit here and compare ourselves to others and desire things that we don’t have.
I’m plenty guilty of it. I compare myself to others way too often. I wish that I had different physical features or personality traits; I wish I owned nicer clothes, and I covet the belongings of those around me.
When will we learn to be satisfied with what we have been blessed with? When will we learn that we find our joy not in things of this world, but in the Lord and that of the eternal realm? I hear and I know these things to be true, but when will I ever truly learn?
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
Psalm 23:1
