The moment of disillusionment came crashing down sometime in September during my freshman year of college. I was sitting outside doing some reading for one of my classes when the revelation hit me like a Biology 101 textbook falling from the sky: I will never be the girl on the cover of the catalog!
Before that moment, I don’t think I even realized I harbored any such dreams. Starting my junior year of high school, I’d get mailing after mailing of coeds sprawled on a blanket under pines or yellow aspens (never doing any homework—just smiling perfect, gleaming smiles).
My realization that I would never be the catalog girl wasn’t about the way I looked or about the fact that my outfit didn’t come off the hanger at Gap or even that such handsome guys never sat on my red plaid blanket.
It was that I’d thought I’d somehow feel different once I arrived and became a college student.
As it turned out, I was still me.
It’s a phenomenon that has followed me my whole life. I figured that once I got engaged, I would suddenly feel glamorous and confident and perhaps even a little diva-like. And that once I got married, I’d instantly acquire all manner of wifely abilities, like, for example, being able to whip together a timely, healthy, and delicious dinner, or scrubbing the toilets on a regular basis.
But once again, I was just me, with a diamond solitaire on my finger, or just me, with a Mrs. in front of my name. It was a bit of a letdown to discover there’s no magic spell to transform you into a particular life stage. Instead, it turns out you just have to figure out how the role fits you, particularly. You don’t become someone else.
I recently discovered that the same thing is true when it comes to being an author. When I got my first copy of my book, I was elated to hold it in my hands. But to my surprise, I didn’t transform me into the persona of an author in that moment. The day I got the book, I finished my work day, as usual; commuted home amid much construction, as usual; and arrived home to discover I had no ideas for dinner, as usual. I’m quite certain that Louisa May Alcott and Agatha Christie had no such pedestrian problems.
While it’s a bit of a disappointment at first to discover that a new role doesn’t equate to becoming a new person, it’s ultimately a huge relief. It means that God doesn’t expect me to fit some mold I was never meant to fit into. I never have to step into shoes I wasn’t created to fill. He has millions of patterns of what “college student” or “wife” or “author” looks like, not some one-size-fits-all formula. And that’s ever so much more creative and freeing, for all of us.
- It means you don’t have to be the girl in the college catalog.
- You don’t have to be the woman at church who seems to have it all together.
- You don’t have to be a Pinterest-perfect mom.
- You don’t have to be your neighbor or your sister or your mom or your best friend or your online nemesis.
You just get to be you. And you get to figure out along the way what it looks like to be you as a wife, you as a mom, you as an employee, you as a leader, you as a follower of Christ.
You aren’t defined by your roles. God made you to be you, and that is a good thing.
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I’d love to hear your story! Are there any roles in your life that have surprised you? Did you expect to feel different when you arrived at any of those anticipated life stages?
I remember the day I finally realized I was a grownup and chose to be that grownup. Married. New baby. Sicker than a dog from the flu. I looked in the mirror, wanting my mother and realized I was the grownup.
And now, years later, I am in a role I am clueless about and don’t particularly want after the death of my mother. I am now the oldest living generation and the matriarch of the family. Sobering. Nobody older than me is praying for my children and grandchildren.
Lynne, thanks for sharing about the role you’re in that you didn’t want to sign up for. Your children and grandchildren are blessed to have your prayers.
Truth!!
🙂 You’re pretty awesome in the role of YOU!
You too, you almost-seminary-grad!
Lynne’s comment was very similar to what I was going to write, matriarch of the family is new to me now and it’s a bit overwhelming to be the oldest generation. Other moments were joining a sorority and realizing I had a greek pin on but wasn’t the least bit more fashionable or pulled together, becoming a grandmother and wondering how I could be wise as grandparents are supposed to be. Working as an adult in an adult world for the first time and realizing that adults didn’t have all the answers, not even close!
Sandy, what insightful reflections! You are a wise grandma!
Once, when I was a guest speaker at an event at which a prestigious Presbyterian leader had spoken the year before, I told my congregation that I was feeling nervous, that “I had big shoes to fill.” A dear lady in the congregation sent me a note that week. She wrote, “You don’t have to fill anyone’s shoes. Your own fit you just fine.” I’ll never forget. I used that for the theme of my acceptance speech when I won the Presbyterian Writers Guild David Steele Distinguished Writer Award 2 years ago. I’ll send it to you. So I say to you, dear Stephanie, your own shoes fit you just fine!
What a beautiful twist on the shoe metaphor! Thanks for your wisdom and for sharing your story!
Yes, this is exactly where I am! I thought I’d instantly feel like a mom when Selah was born, but it took many weeks before I could even wrap my head around the fact that I’m her mom. It still takes me by surprise sometimes!
You are exactly the Brittany-mom God designed you to be! I love seeing you shine in this new role.
The day my father paid me what he thought was a huge compliment. “You are the founder and director of a successful international ministry.” My reply, “Yes and one who is totally disabled and on Social Security Disability!”
Isn’t it amazing how both can be true…how we can hold seemingly opposite roles at the same time? You are living out your roles (even the unexpected ones) in beautiful ways.