Sometimes I am sad because I am not a great evangelist or because I am not a great theologian or orator. I would love to write great literary works that entertain while making the reader contemplate the transcendentals but alas, what I write is more literary fiasco. I am a housewife that, because of my husband’s work schedule, spends most of my time with miniature people that I made. And while most of the time I realize that it is of utmost importance to do my best to show these little people the path to heaven, sometimes I wish I could do more to show others – outside of my house – the road as well. There are so many out there living despondent lives enslaved to their passions and I wish I had some talent at my disposal to help them see there is a better way. However, I was not blessed with said talent, hence, I am sometimes sad.
In a world with social media, it seems like there are so many doing good on such massive scales. It’s difficult not to be hard on oneself for not doing much by comparison. It is by comparison that, at times, I find myself judging my contributions and they rarely measure up and that is why I am sometimes sad.
It was during one such period of sadness that I was reminded twofold that, even though our strengths don’t seem like strengths compared to the strengths of others, they are still strengths, nonetheless. Sometimes our strengths can surprise us in that they may make up for someone else’s weakness. And perhaps I should just accept the role I’ve been given because it’s exactly where I’m meant to be. I am a foot.
Let me explain:
I was reminded first by 1 Corinthians 12 when it came up in the daily readings. In this part of the letter to the people of Corinth, Saint Paul discusses how we’re all parts of the Body of Christ and that like the parts of a body, we all have our job to do. “If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be?” Saint Paul knew that some of us are feet but that we look to the brain in awe and wish that we were the brain. He gently nudges us to realize that without the feet, the brain would have a hard time getting around or wearing stylish sandals. Feet need to recognize the importance of their role and thereby, be content that they are feet while letting the brain worry about being the brain.
I was reminded secondly of the importance of accepting my part in life by a video about a cyclist competing with a body builder (click here). I was fascinated to see that each had their own strengths and weaknesses and that each thrived in their own capacities but were each a duck out of water in the other’s territory. It also made me contemplate the work that both put into their respective sports that made their end results look almost effortless.
I suppose brains have to put a lot of work into being brains just as I have to put a lot of work into being a foot. And though brains may seem to have it all in that they have lots of brilliant ideas and keep the rest of the body alive and whatnot, on its own, a brain wouldn’t last five seconds on a kid’s room floor covered in Legos.
When next time the sadness comes upon me, I hope to remember the cyclist and the bodybuilder and that I am content being a foot.