Most of us are one thing and wish we were another. Even the Apostle Paul asked the question, “why don’t I do what I want to do but do what I don’t want to do?” (my paraphrasing obviously). For some reason today on my walk (probably to keep myself from focusing on the sweat, and burn and terrible pace) I began to think about those things to make a list in my head. What I wish I were vs. what I actually am.
I wish I were graceful vs. I am the least graceful person I know… You know the phrase “Bull in a china shop” that phrase was actually written about me, or at least it could have been. I routinely break precious and non-precious items while doing normal things like dusting, walking, and breathing. I seem to be much stronger then I realize and apparently have a magnetism toward the ridiculous situations. I play “Mystery Bruise” in the shower most mornings but can never remember if I got the bruise from running into the corner of the kitchen counter or walking into the push mower when I mowed it into a hole. Despite my apparent lack of light-footedness and the fact that it seems to be something you inherit (my sister suffers as well as my barely four year old son who sounds like a rhino whenever he walks anywhere) there is still a place inside me that really believes that I am holding onto an excessive amount of talent in the dancing and figure skating world if only I had the right venue in which to unleash my furry.
I wish I were dainty vs. I am sooooo not dainty… I know this goes right along with being graceful but this is more of an inward trait I’m missing. My laughs do not “tinkle like crystal” or sound like “water splashing through a little brook” my laughs are not endearing or sweet; I sound like a flock of honking geese. Wouldn’t that be one for the Jane Austin books, “he looked her way when he heard her laugh sound across the room like a flock of geese honking there way south…” Boy is that romantic. I wish that when I was mad I could seethe with a quiet determination, or that when I was said I would shed a quiet solitary tear or that when I’m happy I could merely smile with a mysterious smile. But no, when I’m mad I cry (stupid tears making me seam weak) when I’m said I cry, when I’m happy, yes sometimes I cry, and if I don’t cry I dance, jump and yell. And people, when I cry I don’t weep like a fair maiden, oh no I bawl and tears flow and I make noise and my nose is like a faucet which doesn’t only drip but gushes forth! I wish that I were quiet and mysterious but I’m not I’m loud and when I get excited my voice raises a couple of pitches and my arms fling about me like I’m crazy.
I wish I were beautiful but at least I’m normal. I wish I were thin, though I know I could be much plumper, I wish my hair was curly or straight instead of whatever it is in between. I wish I were a perfect mother who never yells or looses her temper and that I was always innovative in the bedroom. I wish I didn’t accidentally spend too much money and that when I cook I didn’t make so much of a mess. I wish, I wish, I wish…
On the other hand I know that God made me, and while I know there’s plenty not perfect with me I think there’s a lot that’s good. I know that while having a laugh that tinkles like a bell would be nice it’s a lot nicer to be nice, to be generous and to love those around you. I know that my husband is glad he married me (though I often wonder why), and I have never ever wanted to be with any one but him. Our children make me laugh and cry and sigh and I would never want to change that. I know that while I strive to loose 40 lbs what I really want is to become the woman that God wants me to be. That some how God thinks my laugh is endearing and that the fact that I cry when I’m mad is sweet, so really I guess I don’t want to be that Jane Austin Character, I’d rather be me; maybe a slightly thinner more peaceful me, but a me that people trust with their hurts and joys, a me that gives back and does the right thing. Thanks God for making me me.