What makes you you

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Psalm 139:14

A couple Sundays ago, Gwen* asked what books I’ve been reading. My mind was not on books and, stumped, I stumbled through, saying I’d read The Help after finishing my M.Div. (But that was 5 years ago.) The conversation moved on to another topic but the question stayed with me.

Back at the house that afternoon, I sat on one of the two estate sale lawnchairs that, along with a small coffee table I’d picked up at St. Vinny’s, are my living room furnishings (until the floors are refinished in November.) On the chair opposite me was a stack of books – yes, I do read – a pair by Brené Brown (I’ve mentioned reading her books); The Peoples' Bible, the book I use for morning prayers, and a 42-year-old copy of Barkley's Romans; Living the Questions which I hope to begin soon; and some things by Richard Rohr. While sabbathing last Thursday (I had an obligation Friday) I reread half of M.M. Kaye’s The Ordinary Princess. (Kay* came home and said she’d been wondering what read-aloud we’d use for our car travels next week. We put that one at the top of the list. It’s been years since we read it.)

I've been puzzling over not having titles to share when a congregant asked. I can think of two possible reasons for this. The first, that my memory is a bit more Swiss-cheesy than usual I could understand given the changes of recent months. The second reason may be less likely but it’s deeper, so I want to explore it.

Was I assuming that Gwen meant fiction? Yes. That’s okay, but even so, why didn't I tell her about Brown or Rohr? As I sit here on my balance ball trying to understand, I realize that this is part of who I am. I answer questions directly. I sometimes wish I didn’t and have worked on doing differently. A friend of mine regularly unsettles me by asking surprising questions. I fumble to answer, but often leave without having said what I wanted to say. Other people can answer around questions or respond by redirecting the conversation. I can only do this with great intentionality.

(I thought this post would be going in a different direction, but I tend to go with what comes. A novelist friend of mine – okay, it’s Kay – says this happens with her characters and her story lines regularly and that it’s normal.)

Most of us have personal traits we’re not fond of. This answering thing isn’t even the big one that bothers me. As we mature, we grow used to these ways we have, but we can still be hard on ourselves. You know what bugs you – and, I don’t mean “nose” or “feet” or anything like that – do you love that part about yourself? I don’t, but until this moment, I’d never thought about loving it. Maybe I’ll try. 

My straightforward style is not a world problem. I doubt it troubles anyone but me. God knows I came this way. I’ve probably even learned to use it to my advantage. Maybe love is the answer…

Maybe we could both work on loving our own ways. What do you think? Are you game?

* I seldom use people’s actual names. Kay is my pseudonym for my daughter.