It was the middle of summer, right after the seventh grade and Mom thought I needed work to do.
I did. I was bored. And the garage was full of junk so I would be the one to clean it out. There would be payment, of course: a large fries from McDonald’s.
By mid-afternoon, the job was complete so Mom and I hopped in the van and drove across town to fetch our fries. I still remember that ride. Not necessarily what we talked about, but how it made me feel. I felt valued that Mom would pay me in such a time-consuming way just because she knew I’d enjoy the fries and because she enjoyed spending time with me.
She loved spending time with all of her children, but I have no knowledge of any of the rest of my siblings getting large fries from McDonalds with Mom (although I’m sure they have gotten other treats). That was our moment. Etched in my mind, forever reminding me that I was important to her.
Mom never liked public speaking.
Actually, she hated it! She freaked out at the idea of being a moderator for a ladies retreat, much less a speaker. But she married a man who was a pastor and spoke a lot. So she would sometimes get picked to do ladies sessions.
In the weeks leading up to her session, she would stress out like crazy. I never saw Mom more nervous than when she knew she had to speak publicly.
But she always did great. People loved her talks.
One of Mom’s favorite activities was hanging out with the family. It thrilled her to spend time with loved ones and though she wasn’t always the one telling the jokes, she’d laugh at them. And then clarify what was funny. To her, it wasn’t about being the person in the center, but just being a part of what was happening.
If you are reading this and starting to think you should be more like Mom, there’s something else I need to tell you about her.
Mom was a quiet person. Not the least charismatic. She was the sort of lady that would walk into a group of people and they’d hardly notice she was there. Because of that, she struggled to feel like she fit in, and sometimes wished she could be more outgoing. But one thing she learned, and mastered, was being okay with herself.
Although Mom wasn’t an extrovert, she influenced many people. No, she didn’t like public speaking; but one-on-one she had the ability to connect with you in a way that made you feel valued and like you were okay. Because she was secure in who she was and okay in who God made her (with all her quirks), she had nothing to prove to the world.
That gave her the ability to be okay with who God had made you.
She didn’t need you to be somebody in particular before she valued friendship with you. Her friendship was yours just because you lived and breathed.
Mom had her faults, just like you. And me. She didn’t have to hide them, yet she wasn’t ruled by them. She simply was, for better or worse. That’s how she lived.
If you and I ever want to connect deeply in relationships, we need to be okay with who we are.
The truth about being an outstanding person is that they are at peace with the fact that we’re all different and all in need of growth.
That I have crooked teeth and a big smile to expose them all, or that my personality is more competitive and intense so that I tend to get overly focused on the serious things in life and forget to rest along the way is something I need to come to peace with. God made me. And He has no desire to change who He made me.
When we’re not okay with that in ourselves, we won’t be okay with it in others.
We will hold people to an expectation they weren’t meant to fulfill.
So, the next time you are tempted to compare, remind yourself that being an outstanding person doesn’t mean you must have special gifts or talents, but that you are simply okay with who you are.
Don’t wish for somebody else’s personality, but go out and love others the way you love. Don’t compare your weaknesses with another person’s strengths, but recognize God is working in each of you. And right now, God needs you to be fully you. Nobody else.
As Ken Davis says, “I’m not okay, and you’re not okay; but that’s okay!”
