More Than a Little Messy

I've always had a pretty healthy self-esteem.  My parents used to joke that I was my own best friend (although I'm pretty sure they were mostly serious and not actually joking).  I've kind of always marched to the beat of my own drum, sometimes to my detriment; and probably needless to say, I'm pretty quirky.

There have been a few people in my past who have gotten tired of who I am.  Because, as I have heard, "quirks are only endearing for so long."

And let me tell you - I have a lot of them.

I spill stuff.  All the time.  All over.  I don't purchase anything white.
I break things.  Usually meaningless things, but occasionally the priceless heirloom.
I lose things all the time.  The number of headphones I've purchased or house keys made...oy.
I laugh at things that no one else thinks are funny (and honestly, things that weren't meant to be).
I'm incredibly clumsy.  Trying to figure out where my bruises come from is almost a game.
I listen to audio books.
I dance.  There doesn't have to be music.
I quote movies.  Like...a lot of movies.  I pretty much have no original thoughts.
I listen to Disney soundtracks.
I cry a lot.  Happy, sad - it doesn't matter.  Tears.
I create food combinations like a pregnant woman.
I arrange my food and ketchup each individual fry.
I wear what I like, even if everyone else secretly (or not so secretly) thinks it's hideous.
I hug everyone.  Whether or not I know them.  Whether or not it's awkward.

I'm just weird.  And that's okay - I've always been this way, and frankly, I'm not ashamed of who I am. I like who I am, and I'm happy.

But I'm also human.  Which means every now and then, Satan reminds me that I'm not like everyone else.  Every once in a while, the thought crosses my mind that maybe I should act more like the people around me...try a little more to fit in.  I get frustrated with myself, wishing I could keep myself together.  Every date that doesn't work out, every eye rolled in my direction - there's a hateful little voice in the back of my head, suggesting that "perhaps, if you weren't such a weirdo, he would actually like you back."

To be honest, that's rough.  Everyone wants to be loved for who they are, not in spite of who they are. One of the best guys I know, my brother-in-law, told my sister that he wanted me to find a man who loved me for my quirks; who loved me, simply for being me.

The truth is, though, I've already found Him.  Christ made us in His own image.  He knows our quirks because He created them.

Let me say that again - He created them.

I was reading a parenting article (yes, as a single non-parent) the other day, and heard children described as, "God's creative miracles, uniquely designed with His intentionality."  It completely stunned me.  What an incredible depiction of how our Lord views us!  It was a beautiful reminder that I don't need to become something I'm not in order to fit in.  Because to Jesus, I'm just right - "always enough and never too much." * We don't have to defend ourselves to Him because He doesn't care what others think.  We matter because we are His.

So on hard days of feeling like a weirdo, when someone reminds me that I'm not like everyone else,  and when I'm tempted to conform to fit in, I am reminded to be who I am created to be.  And in case you're wondering?  God doesn't make mistakes.

I will continue living life as God made me - "bold, bright, beautiful, and maybe a little messy." *



* quotes from SoulScripts by Jordan Lee

A Lesson from Clarence

Two weeks ago, I moved.  To be clear, I don't love moving.  It's a big job, and unfortunately, involves transporting a lot of junk from one place to another.  But there's something about going into a new place, with all the potential that lies within.  I delight in starting with a blank room and turning it into a home.  I was excited about the potential, but not looking forward to the process--especially because it was one of the busiest times of year at work.  I was working on a year-end process and had a very tight deadline.  I wasn't sleeping well, I didn't have much of an appetite, and I sort of felt like I was drowning.

Suffice it to say, it was a stressful time and my roommate and I were both ready to pull our hair out.  But we made it...thanks to our friends.  I sent an email to my mom the day after the big move that read as follows:

Alex helped move most of my stuff from our old apartment to Jeff's house.

Megan and her family took the beast (my dog) on a 3 mile hike yesterday.  It was wonderful for him and the perfect amount of time for him to be gone.

Hannah and Sebastian took a car load over, packed up the rest of my room, took that over, and set up my bed before they left so that at least I would have a place to sleep when I crashed.  They also brought me coffee when they came back with the second carload.

Matt and Jeff (both after getting home from tour - Jeff was running on 75 minutes of sleep from the night before) helped move the stuff from their house to my new apartment, and then went back to the old apartment, packed up my entire kitchen, loaded up their cars to unload today, and took my key so they could finish up moving everything left today while I was at work (both my stuff and my roommate's stuff).  I also overheard Jeff telling [my roommate] that they live 3 minutes away - so if she ever needs anything to let them know.

Needless to say, I was in tears multiple times yesterday haha.  I am so blessed beyond belief - I don't even have words.  All I can say is, "my cup runneth over."  God is so good to bless me with friends such as these.

I've tried to find other words besides, "Thank you."  Nothing else seems sincere, but a mere "thank you" doesn't seem sufficient.  I must have said it a million times that day, maybe more.  

I felt very much like George Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life.  I watch this movie every Christmas, and every time Harry raises his glass to toast his big brother George - "the richest man in town,"  I tear up.  It's beautiful.  And for maybe the first time, I truly understood.  

"Atta boy, Clarence."