Sunday, April 19, 2015

I am A Socially Awkward, Clumsy Dork



I have a confession to make.  To those who know me well, this will not be a big shocker, nor will it be a huge revelation to pretty much anyone who has encountered me on any given day

The confession is - I'm clumsy.  I am a socially awkward dork.  I am a clumsy, socially awkward dork.

I have longed, as most girls have at one time or another in their lives, to be graceful - the person who glides into the room, at just the right moment, never too late, never too early, with just the tiniest hint of the perfect scent, and then proceeds to effortlessly converse with others, witty banter tinged with encouragement dripping from her tongue.  All whom she has encountered go away feeling lighter than they did before she arrived.

Alas, that is not me.  I am more likely to stumble into the room with a curler still left in the back of my hair, as I try in vain to unobtrusively sniff my arm pits to make certain that I did, indeed, remember the deodorant, even if I did forget check my back view in the mirror (remember the curler?  Yeah, on quick glace would have revealed that), before bolting out of the house later than I would have liked.

Awkwardly, I speak to a few people on my way in, and spend the rest of my time there hoping I didn't say something embarrassing or inappropriate.  Those who leave my presence are likely to do so with a sigh of relief as they scratch their head in confusion because I've just called them by the wrong name for the 40th time. *sigh*

There is good reason my mom did not name me Grace.  Instead, she dubbed me with the middle name Gay, back in 1964 when Gay just meant happy, lighthearted, carefree...  She claims I was a happy baby from the beginning, which I find suspect, because what two day old baby is happy, lighthearted and carefree (well, carefree maybe, but that's beside the point)?  Anyway, I digress, since this isn't a post about my name, but rather, about my nature.

I'm here to talk about my nature, and all the years I've spent wishing I were that glidingly graceful woman with the small button nose and brilliant smile.

It occurred to me at church today, as I committed (not for the first time) a faux pas while serving communion (specifics aren't important; clearly I am capable of all manner of - oops, I did it again! - episodes) that I have spent many years wishing, and futilely trying to be what I believed to be a better version of myself.

I know that God loves me just the way I am.  I've never doubted that, but I still thought I could train myself to be a graceful swan, somehow, some way, I thought I could - then I could please God even more, because I would be able to articulate his message so much more eloquently to those around me.

As I sat there, pondering, through half the Pastor's message, (sorry, Pastor, my mind wanders; yet another flaw) I began to grasp the error of my ways.  By wishing I was something I will never be, someone I was never meant to be, I was in essence telling God that he made a mistake with me.  Surely he'd meant to give me that graceful glitter, but had simply forgot.  He has a lot of people to make, you know, he might have sprinkled the glitter, MY glitter, on the wrong person!

How arrogant of me to believe I know better who I am supposed to be, how I am supposed act in this world than God himself.

I suppose there is some reason he had in making me a clumsy dork, known more for her social malapropisms than her erudite words of wisdom,

 I have yet to figure His reasons out, but I'm sure the God of the Universe had some motive.  I suppose I shall continue to bungle through life, and someday I will stumble across the perfect reason.

~ Psalm 139 13-16 (The Living Bible) You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit them together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! It is amazing to think about. Your workmanship is marvelous—and how well I know it. You were there while I was being formed in utter seclusion! You saw me before I was born and scheduled each day of my life before I began to breathe. Every day was recorded in your book!

Photobucket