I wrote this in my journal the other day and God told me to share it…so here goes.
I was just thinking about how often I’m good at something but never the best. I can sing – heck, I was in madrigals [an elite choir] for two years in high school, but I’m not the one picked for solos. I’ve always been a good student, but I was never top of my class or in the running for valedictorian. I can write well, and I tend to have wonderful grammar thanks to a great English teacher long ago, but people don’t line up to hear my stories or get held on every word. I can take some pretty stellar pictures (mainly due to my fabulous camera) but somebody always comes along with something better, clearer, brighter. I’ll think I got a great deal bargaining down at the market and find out five minutes later that a friend just paid way less for the same thing. No matter how hard I try, how much of myself I pour in to something, somebody is always out there that’s better than me.
Let’s face it…I’m average.
who sings whether anybody is listening or not
who writes when she feels inspired and doesn’t write unless she feels extremely inspired
who takes pictures for the sheer joy of being able to look through them months and years later
who reads books just to pass time and spends way too much time on the internet instead of actually interacting with people
who has a few close friends and a lot more aquaintences
who wants to both move back in with my crazy, huge family and move halfway across the country to be part of a crazy huge new family
who has never dated a boy in her life but wants to get married so badly
who reads other people’s blogs or books or song lyrics and wishes she could write out her thoughts so profoundly or capture such deep meaning in words or music
who knits and sews and has secret aspirations to make fun things like a quilt or her own clothes
who wears her emotions on her sleeves far too often and then wishes people couldn’t read her so well
who wants to climb trees and run around like a little kid but is afraid to because she’s supposed to be a grown-up responsible adult now
who loves to organize but also loves her somewhat cluttered closet
who wishes her hair were curly or at least had some (normal) body but has to settle for straight-ish and flat instead
who wants to be fit and healthy but hates to work out and loves junk food waaaaay too much
who loves to dress up and look cute on occasion but is also comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt and chacos any day of the week
who is creative but never gets pegged as the artist in the group
who wears somewhat dirty clothes and tries to portray an image that she doesn’t really care what others think while in reality cares way too much what they think and tries to please them far too often…
Okay, so maybe I’m not so average after all. Maybe I’m a unique, one-of-a-kind, special me that nobody else could ever be. So those days I’m feeling like a regular old Joe (or actually Jane because I’m a girl), I should take a look at this and remember who I am:
me
