When I grow up, I want to be a... me

It starts out harmlessly enough.  When I grow up, I want to be a... someone.  Depending on coaching, options could range from the traditional: princess, ice skater, dancer, artist, fireman, policeman, cowboy, to the parentally-induced downright pretentious: surgeon (they're 4, they don't know what that is), diplomat, nuclear engineer, etc.  That's all well and good.  Let the kid aspire to something that only a Lilliputian-sized sliver of humanity will ever accomplish.  They'll figure out soon enough that you usually have to start skating when you're 3 and practically sleep on the rink to make it to the Olympics and that in order to be a princess, you have to find a prince, or at least a fairy godmother and a pumpkin.  

Things begin to change as the pop culture frenzy breaks on the scene (may I suggest limited doses?).  Suddenly it's the hottest, latest, greatest whoever.  The good thing about teen stars is they have a great track record of being good role models.  May I bring to your attention Lindsay Lohan, Brittney Spears, Amanda Bynes, and even good ole Justin Bieber?  Yeah, I don't think you want your kids being them when they grow up.  

Along the way, kids wise up to the fact that they probably aren't going to land a Disney contract, get a platinum album, or have their own reality TV show.  What they don't realize is they are still parroting the mantra, with a few substitutions.  Instead of "when I grow up, I want to be a movie star", it's "when I grow up, I want to have legs like ___ or clothes like ____ or muscles like ___".  You might not ever catch them saying it out loud, but you might catch them mirror gazing, biting their bottom lip with a frown or hollering through the house that they have nothing to wear.  

You'd think that it would all stop when you send them off to college, that haven of higher learning and wisdom.  Ha.  You'd think that they would understand that the heart, the mind, the hands of a person are where the value lies, not in ombre beach curls.  Ha.  

If it doesn't stop in college, then SURELY as adults we'd get our crap together and figure out that most of us will never have hair that blonde/storytelling skills that hilarious/a house that big etc. (Sorry if I've just shattered all your hopes and dreams.)  But we wish, and we pine, and we pout anyway.  

Confession time: just last weekend I was at a concert and saw a group of girls.  They were all wearing cute sundresses and rompers that were perfectly accessorized.  Their makeup seemed flawless even though it was blazing and muggy outside.  I thought, wowwwww, I wish I was that pretty and put together.  If only I was a little more tan and my legs were a little skinnier.  If only I took time to curl my hair and actually put on foundation.  Then I, then I, then I... would be like them and I would be... happy.  

Every so often I tune in to my internal dialogue just to see if I'm saying anything sparklingly profound or interesting that I should, myself, take note of in case I need blog material.  Well, this made it into the blog alright, but it was more because of the downright heresy of the thing than any smithereen of profundity.  It's astounding, really, how I can, in one hand hold the doctrine of Imago Dei, (Latin for: image of God, which means that God made us to have qualities like Him and that people matter regardless of what they can do or what they look like) and in the other hand hold the heresy of comparesy (Latin for: wishing you were more like the people on your Pinterest boards).  

And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good...

Imago Dei

Imago Dei

Imago Dei

Imago Dei

             

God calls this humanity that He designed very good.  And I'm pretty sure that He designed genetic diversity with the intent for it to show up in curls and freckles and stubby toes and high cheekbones and every other way there is.  THE image of God looks like a whole lot of different people, and it shows up best when we are us.  We look the most like our Creator when we act like Him- when we put others first, and make pretty things, and love deeply.  If God made me to be a me, then by golly, I guess that's enough.  If He didn't make me 6 feet tall, then there's a reason.  If He didn't give me the comedic prowess of Zoe Deschanel, then I guess it's OK that I never get to kiss Joseph Gordon-Levitt.

Being a me means something.  I was on-purpose made with straight brown hair and slightly wide size 7 1/2 feet.  I was on-purpose made with an interest in all things that grow.  I was on purpose made with a knack for talking to anyone.  I was on-purpose born in Tucson, Arizona (though why, I'll never know).  It's not as though being me has 45.3 points of importance and being Jennifer Aniston has 23421 points of importance.  It's important that she is Jennifer Aniston.  It's equally important that I am me.   

However, it's not enough to say- well, I'm me, great!  If my purpose is to be me, then I'm all done.  I can do whatever I want because my chief aim is to be myself, and clearly I'm doing a stand up job.  This blog is not decrying the role of heroes or goal setting or role models.  All those things are important.  We were created to be us, which means dynamic, growing, changing, falling more in love with the One who made us, chasing after full, colorful, vibrant life.  That means relinquishing our desires to be someone else when we grow up.  That means letting go of apathy toward change that needs to happen.  That means the coolest, most fulfilling, important thing you can be is yourself, not a half-decent copy of someone else.  

It means all at once being content knowing that you were made on purpose and discontent to eat bonbons on the chaise all day knowing that you're created for a purpose.

When I grow up, maybe, just maybe, I'll be me.

Little Miss Sunshine