There’s a life lesson my dog taught me. He finds incredible joy in who he is and what he was created to be.
In the silences of your life…do you?
Do you like who you are and how you fit in? Or are you left wondering if you are not only counted on, but counted in? In the everyday moments when glances are stolen across the
coffee shop,
parking lot,
school yard,
conference room,
rest room mirror,
and definitely yes, if you’re in a church…
have they caught you wanting to be her instead?
It started in the schoolyard, which was really an asphalt parking lot that filled up with children during recess in our little square mile of a town across from Manhattan. Their names were Gail and Marianne and I wanted to be them. They were a little older and had golden hair that caught the sunlight, confident smiles and sweet giggles. I didn’t want to be the homemade haircut me with a cowlick in my too-short bangs, front teeth crowding out my small mouth, parents who were too distracted to ask me to brush those teeth, and a brood of many brothers, which looked like a big tumbling ball of boy around me. At six years old I wanted to be eight and stunningly beautiful and I wanted to be them.
Seven hundred twenty-five miles and many years away from the parking lot-play yard, my peripheral vision still catches them, leaning in laughing, drinking in the company of each other with each sip of their lattes. I on the other hand frantically grab the fuel needed to propel me to the next meeting and task as I run past, quite literally tumbling out my order at the coffee shop. I scan their table to to allow a half-moment’s rest on the horizon out the window: I am missing out, and I wanna be. I grab my cup, head back to my car with hot java bubbling through the opening of the lid, spilling onto a knit glove and scalding my skin. Envy forms a blister as a reminder on my hand the remainder of the week. I reach for the keys to my silly looking little car that is the wrong color and the wrong shape but was the practical one sitting on the lot at the auto store seven years ago. I catch the new shiny pearl white large SUV idling next to it, and I wanna be. At the gym, her thighs don’t touch. I wanna be. At the meeting, she commands a room. I wanna be. At the dinner party, she instinctively knows how to work a room. I wanna be. Her husband loves and protects her. I wanna be. Her children wear matching clothes, combed hair and not a speck of dirt can be found under their fingernails. I wanna be. She speaks with eloquence and wisdom emerges from every word. I wanna be. Her prayers rattle the gates of the darkness. I wanna be.
C’mon, I know I’m not the only one. Let’s stop.
If your paths are marked with measuring sticks of performance, beauty, brains, brawn, production, whit and wisdom, you are not embracing the beauty formed by the hands of a master Artist. It’s time to find contentment in yourself. Yes, you should be working towards becoming the best version of you, but still, be you. Not the wanna be version of the prettier and smarter and quicker and funnier, and not the version others want you to be, but you.
My dog gets it.
He was created to be a retriever. He’s not looking at the german shepherd for cues on how to round up and protect his people and flock, he’s not looking at a hound to show him how to hunt.
His happiness and fulfillment is found in retrieving.
So be content with who you are, and don’t put on airs. God’s strong hand is on you; he’ll promote you at the right time. Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you. 1 Peter 5.6 (MSG)
Be content in who you are. Exude the jaw-dropping glory of His workmanship by simply embracing God’s artistry and letting Him work. I’m confident you’ll embrace more joy.
If you wannabe, take a cue from Jesus. No one else.