For a long time now, I’ve wanted to be sweet. I want to be one of those sugary, Southern
girls, who says all the right things, who makes everyone feel welcome, who can
only be described as “precious.” As in “She
is just so precious. I love her.” That kind of thing. I want to become the old lady that everyone
adores – the one who brews tea and is welcoming and hospitable and just so sweet.
I want to be that woman, but I’m just not. And my best friends were probably about to
die laughing as they read that first paragraph because they know as well as I do
that I’m a far cry from “sweet.” And I
get it honestly. My mom and both my
grandmothers would certainly not be called sweet, either. I come from a line of women who are loud and
energetic and a little bit bossy. Women
who are strong and independent and opinionated and maybe a little too
honest. Women who are sometimes tactful
and sometimes not. Women who are
sometimes a little hotheaded and quick tempered. This is me.
I’m all these things.
But, like the women I love, I’m also passionate and sincere. I’m loyal and forgiving. I usually give the benefit of the doubt, and
even when my temper races ahead of my rational thought, I’m quick to “let it
go.” I love wildly and maybe a little
messy but I love well, and I love much.
And I desperately want to “get it right.” I want to get life right. I want to be the
woman God created me to be. And I’ve
been trying for the past few years to be sweet because I thought God wanted
sweet girls. The meek, mild, quiet,
precious women – I thought those were his favorites. And I’ve felt guilty when I’m not sweet. I’ve felt guilty, basically, for being me.
And then, this morning, I thought about Abigail and Rahab and Sarah and
Deborah. I don’t think any of them were
especially sweet either – but look how they were used. In fact, in them, I see some of my own
characteristics used positively. I also
think about Peter. Man, I love
Peter. He didn’t often get it right and
his mouth got away from him in crucial moments – see the Transfiguration. But he was the rock on whom Jesus built the
church. Not sweet, loyal John. Messy, impulsive, chatty Peter was The Rock.
You know what I think God was telling me this morning? I think he was saying he doesn’t want me to
be sweet. He wants me to be me. There is a place for my personality, and the
truth is that when molded well, the rough edges have a place, too. I look at my group of close friends, and I
see in them how beautifully personalities come together to make the
church. When I want a good dose of
honesty, I call Rebecca. When I want to
analyze, I call Emily. When I need
encouragement, Marianne or Sara are my “go tos.” When I need a fun distraction from a worry,
Ashley is the perfect companion, and for practical advice or help
brainstorming, Laura is my first call.
These girls are all so different, but God uses them uniquely to bless me. Only a few of them would probably qualify as “sweet,”
and I’m so glad for that because we would be missing something special if
everyone fell into that category.
Too often, I have spent time wishing I was like someone else and had
different characteristics, and the truth is that I think my time would be
better spent figuring out how to use my personality and the unique gifts I’ve been given to bless others. And I think that as God molds me and convicts
me, I should recognize that he isn’t trying to make me sweet. He is just trying to focus my personality
traits to be used by him. His molding
doesn’t mean that I have to sacrifice my strong will and outspokenness and honesty,
it just means that I should learn to live so that those traits bring honor to
God and build others up. And it is
probably time to simply embrace the fact that I’ll never be called “sweet” and
be thankful for the adjectives that do
apply to me instead.
I might not be sweet...but we still have fun :)
