God knows me well enough to know how hard headed I can be. And I think that is why sometimes he has to draw me out and completely shake my world for me to run back to him. I know more than ever now that I need God and solely dependent upon him.
Most of my life in college has been spent feeling like a fish out of water. In high school, confidence came quite easily, especially because I could beat a lot of fantastic debate teams if you gave me sassy high heals and a loud enough microphone. In high school I hung out with all the nerdy guys, and spent hours upon hours talking about foreign policy, economics, art, philosophy, and subjects most girls wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. My public speaking ventures gave me a lot of confidence. That is why I declared finance to be my major in college; it was a nerdy world that made me feel safe and talented. I remember sitting in a job interview for an insurance company and basically being hired on the spot despite I had recently graduated from high school and had no experience in selling insurance. Although I turned the job down, I remember my interviewer said, "There is something I like about you; you've got spunk."
That was me. Or at least, that was how I portrayed myself to the world. But the truth is, a lot of my confidence through college has largely been an act. Sometimes I still think on the inside I am that little insecure girl that was never brave enough to walk on the balance beam in gym class.
After I got off work on Monday, I decided to travel up to my sister's place at a Christian university up north. I thought a little college life might do me some good and provide a break in my normal routine. Spending quality time with my sister is always a plus for me. Many of you know how much I hate showering in disguising dorm showers, so you must know how much I enjoy quality time with my sister that I will overcome such annoyances.
The moment my suitcase hit the campus, I know I didn't belong, especially after I was informed that I violated the strict dress code. The thing about a lot of Christian campuses is that it's full of people who have to act happy. I don't deal very well with fake people, especially if those people are women trying to get attention. Long story short, living on a Christian campus for a few days made me feel awkward, especially as I began to see how different I am from most of the other girls.
When God created Ashley Renee, I think he laughed. Because I'm the opposite of everything everyone expected me to be. The doctors said I may never walk, and I proved them wrong at eleven years old. Questioning assumptions, searching for the truth and living with passion is what I have always been about. But I look around in the world, and on Christian college campuses, and I see a lot of girls who appear to have it all together. I see girls who are beautiful, girls who are nice, girls who obey all the rules.
And just like any girl does, when we look around at other girls we end up looking at ourselves and comparing.
I had a skeletal deformity. When I'm tired, I walk with a limp. I'm short. I'm romantic and nerdy. It doesn't matter if I can fit in a size two skinny jean, there are days I feel fat. No matter how many songs I play or pictures I paint, I still feel like I have no talent. I looked in the mirror of my sister's dorm room and thought, "I'm ugly." And I realized one thing. I will never be one of "those" girls. I will never belong.
I only cry during moments that matter, and last week I seemed to have a lot of moments that mattered. There is only so much a person can take. Finally, I decided I needed a break and drove my car just to find somewhere safe to go. I ended up parallel parking in front of an old mom and pop coffee house that looked almost deserted. I figured if no one was there, no one could see me hiding my tears. As I excited my car, I noticed the most beautiful stream of water I had ever seen, and stood there for several minutes listening to the sound of the river and I was stunned. Why couldn't I be beautiful like that river? Why couldn't people look at me and see who I am, instead of seeing the nerdy short girl who can't walk straight? Why can't people stop asking what's wrong with me?
I held my tea cup in my hands and walked up to the upstairs loft, glad the coffee house was empty and happy to finally be alone and away from the world. I sat on an antique chair and looked out the old window and started to cry. Finally, I heard a really sweet female voice come up behind me and say, "are you okay?"
I was stunned. I could have swore up and down I was the only person in the deserted coffee house in a small town in the middle of nowhere.
The girl was tall, and fair and had long red hair. She sat beside me and asked me what was wrong, and I confided in her because you can't loose a thing by confiding in a stranger. And as it often is, when one person shares the truth the people around them have the license to do the same. She admitted she had been crying earlier the same day because she struggled with anxiety. For over an hour, this beautiful stranger and I talked about nothing besides God, our struggle for acceptance, feeling awkward around other people and a boat load of issues. Finally I had found a friend bold enough to be truly honest. What a gift.
Just when I wanted to find somewhere to run, I learned God doesn't let his girls get away that easily.
I realized one thing: I don't fit in here. I'm not one of "those" girls. And I'm glad. Because that is not what I am created to be. My worth will never be defined by what other people see.
I refuse to believe because I am worth so little I should settle for anything.
I refuse to be defined by my shell.
I refuse to believe I have nothing to be confident in.
I refuse to live my life just wanting to be like everyone else.
I refuse to let my pride of comparing myself to others ruin potential for true humility.
This is what I have learned: that preaching the truth to yourself can be a lot of work. And here is the sermon God has given me to preach to myself: I'm worth it.
I also spent the weekend getting in contact with an old friend of mine who happens to be gay. We talked for a long time. Although I am straight and he is gay, I felt like this was a person who could understand what it felt like not to fit in. No matter what stance you believe on homosexuality, you have to admire people who graciously stand up for what they believe and give others permission to do the same. And I often find, that the least of these, the people who "will never be like everyone else" are often the people I learn from the most.
To all the imperfect, struggling, and honest people in my life: thank you. I love you all.
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