Authenticity (and Humility)

When did I become an underachiever?

Once upon a time I was going to write books and make art and be a rock star and save the environment and bring about world peace.

At the very least, this time last year I was attending informational sessions on getting a Master’s degree in education to go teach art.  Now I work at a soybean seed plant. 

I can’t decide if I’m actually cynical about this or if there’s a truly beautiful lesson about authenticity (and humility) hiding in the story. 

Fifteen years ago: I was one of the smartest kids in school.  Ten years ago: I was a funny and creative mom who wrote and illustrated books starring my kids (just for fun).  Five years ago: I took on organizing and directing a praise & worship group at church. 

Being an overachiever has its rewards.   I’ve always been a positive feedback junkie and there were plenty of good grades and compliments and affirmations to keep me feeling great about myself.

And then my faith began to deepen and I began to wonder if earthly approval is really all that special.  What a mess THAT created for a junkie like me, addicted to the quick fix of hearing that I’m smart or special or talented.

Now I wonder about my reasons for doing ANYTHING.  I wonder if my actions reflect the real me or if I’m still chasing affirmations. Who is the ‘real me,’ anyway?

In the doubt about who I am, it doesn’t take much to summon up the old fashioned desire to be liked and respected and I find myself dancing around and putting on whatever color people want.

The more I dance around and change colors, the further from authenticity I travel. 

And watch it spiral from there, because I recognize what I’m doing, and it pisses me off.  And the more pissed off at myself I become, the harder it is to believe what God wants me to hear: that I’m loved, no matter what I do.  That I’m beautiful because He made me.

Does God give a shit about my artistic achievements? 

I think He cares more about what’s in my heart than my list of earthly successes. 

And perhaps a heart that works at a bean plant is easier to keep humble than a heart that is all hopped up on compliments about creative brilliance.

Of course, that assumes my creative work would ellicit such a response.

Sigh.

I guess I won’t count humility on my list of achievements.