In response to the latest Gentleman Savant Thursday Writing Prompt: What is the best compliment you’ve ever gotten in your entire life? Alternately (or in addition), tell us about the most backhanded or worst compliment you’ve ever received. Was it the fact that it came from a certain person that made it so good/bad? Or was it the culmination of events leading up to it? The world wants to know!
Apparently I have issues. Self-confidence issues. You might not know it to look at me. If you were around me, you'd think I think the world of myself. But apparently I rarely take a compliment at face value.
Take, for example, the time I was backpacking around Europe in college. I was young, thin, fairly physically fit. (It's from walking up all the stairs, I'm convinced. Could not the ancients have invented some kind of pulley elevator or the like? But I digress.) Somewhere in Italy, a man walks up to me, points to my calves, and asks if I'm a football player. He smiles, winks. He probably thinks I'm hot, this young, naive, redheaded American girl (because I think they think we're all rather easy. I digress again.). I run off to my boyfriend, devastated. I think he laughed. I'm humiliated, searching for a pair of long pants to cover my shamefully large calves. (Actually it was too hot for jeans, so I didn't actually change. But bear with me for the purposes of this story.) It takes a while for it to sink in that the only people who mean "football" when they say "football" are Americans; I'm picturing giant men with shoulder pads and helmets and thighs two feet across, but he's talking about soccer. Soccer players who are not huge, but who have lovely legs. It was probably a compliment. Muscles and all. But what I heard? Look at your big honkin' legs.
I forgot about that right away, and in my well-adjusted way moved on with my life. For 20 years now I've hidden my calves whenever possible. On the rare occasions I've exercised, I've avoided any heavy weights and worked on high reps with low weight to tone without adding bulk. (OK, so that was only three times, so it probably didn't matter much.) But I finally got over it... and I have proof. Just three weeks ago, when working with a trainer at our local gym, she sat me down at this weight machine. I don't know the name, but it's the one where you sit down and put your feet on this vertical platform in front, and push with all your might. Since she knows I don't work out, she tried to start me with 75 pounds. Oh, no, that would not do. I had to show off a little. I did 150 without flinching. She was shocked. Proud. I think I saw tears in the corners of her eyes. For once I was proud of these legs of mine. But I'll never change my mind about shoulder pads. Adding foam to increase the bulk of a woman's silhouette? Crazy. No, shoulder pads are most definitely not gonna happen. Not for this linebacker.
Luke Menard, Crawfordsville's American Idol
Crazy as it seems, I've been asked to model for an upcoming style show here in Crawfordsville. Not something I've been asked many times before, believe me. But they finally convinced me to do it when I found out all proceeds will go to benefit Luke Menard, the man from Crawfordsville who made it to the Top 16 on the most recent season of American Idol. I don't know him, but I'm so impressed with how he's dealing with his cancer diagnosis, treatment, and career. His faith is amazing.
So why am I telling you all this? I know people will not be attending because they want to see ME. But you can check out his blog, come to the style show (and see how crazy I let them go with my hair), pray for him and his family, or even donate online (info here). The fashion show is at the Holiday Inn here in town on Sept. 30th, from 11-1, and tickets can be purchased at Hair Express, 765-362-7837.
So why am I telling you all this? I know people will not be attending because they want to see ME. But you can check out his blog, come to the style show (and see how crazy I let them go with my hair), pray for him and his family, or even donate online (info here). The fashion show is at the Holiday Inn here in town on Sept. 30th, from 11-1, and tickets can be purchased at Hair Express, 765-362-7837.
Living in the Midwest
I love the Midwest. Most people don’t understand that; they’re here not by choice so much as by circumstance. My father is an artist who paints realistic scenes in watercolor, so perhaps I’m predisposed to liking the subject matter. For years, though, I didn’t understand his fascination with Indiana. Where are the hills, the mountains, the oceans? I’ve seen those things, and they’re breathtaking. Each one is different; God created such variety. One beach may have fine white sand and salty blue skies; another thick, coarse tan sand whiskered with grass; another smooth pebbles and deep aquamarine water that almost glows from the intensity of its depths. What is there to see here?
It took a little bit of maturity to learn to appreciate what is around me. The land is not awe-inspiring; it is not dramatic. It has a peaceful kind of beauty, but for all its quiet reserve, once I was able to see it, it made my heart swell with a deep contentment. Winters, mostly gray and slushy, still hold beauty… the bluish-purple hue of shadows in the whiteness, broken by the rich gold of the broken corn stalks pushing through the crusty, sparkly snow. Fall is a riot of intense, deep, passionate colors, maple trees thrusting their orange-red leaves proudly against the flawless blue skies, the ground carpeted with countless variety, each leaf shaped and colored in its own unique way. Spring: the promise of new life, the hope and excitement, the bright greens competing with each other, purple and yellow flowers leaping up in excitement. And summer – the rich, almost obscene lushness, the damp overgrown grass and trees and plants displaying an indulgent abundance that makes me sigh with happiness.
There’s something genuine about it, something peaceful and unpretentious and true. It’s real and it’s reliable. It wraps me in its tender quiet and holds me tight – safe and secure and steadfast.
In life, it seems we gravitate towards the flashy things. When we dream, it’s not of the flat fields undulating gently in the breeze or the subtle play of light and shadow that defines the topography of the land. We dream of the dramatic peaks, the magnificent canyons, the enormous waters stretching around the curves of the earth, moving rhythmically and powerfully.
But sometimes we need to stop and notice the nuances of beauty God has put around us. Our blessings won’t always be obvious. Our spiritual growth may seem stagnant until we sit up and take notice. But we must learn to see the reality surrounding us and not waste time wishing for the extremes. It is only then, only when we love what we already have, that true contentment can be born.
It took a little bit of maturity to learn to appreciate what is around me. The land is not awe-inspiring; it is not dramatic. It has a peaceful kind of beauty, but for all its quiet reserve, once I was able to see it, it made my heart swell with a deep contentment. Winters, mostly gray and slushy, still hold beauty… the bluish-purple hue of shadows in the whiteness, broken by the rich gold of the broken corn stalks pushing through the crusty, sparkly snow. Fall is a riot of intense, deep, passionate colors, maple trees thrusting their orange-red leaves proudly against the flawless blue skies, the ground carpeted with countless variety, each leaf shaped and colored in its own unique way. Spring: the promise of new life, the hope and excitement, the bright greens competing with each other, purple and yellow flowers leaping up in excitement. And summer – the rich, almost obscene lushness, the damp overgrown grass and trees and plants displaying an indulgent abundance that makes me sigh with happiness.
There’s something genuine about it, something peaceful and unpretentious and true. It’s real and it’s reliable. It wraps me in its tender quiet and holds me tight – safe and secure and steadfast.
In life, it seems we gravitate towards the flashy things. When we dream, it’s not of the flat fields undulating gently in the breeze or the subtle play of light and shadow that defines the topography of the land. We dream of the dramatic peaks, the magnificent canyons, the enormous waters stretching around the curves of the earth, moving rhythmically and powerfully.
But sometimes we need to stop and notice the nuances of beauty God has put around us. Our blessings won’t always be obvious. Our spiritual growth may seem stagnant until we sit up and take notice. But we must learn to see the reality surrounding us and not waste time wishing for the extremes. It is only then, only when we love what we already have, that true contentment can be born.
A weed is a weed
I have allergies, I don’t like to get dirty, and I don’t particularly care for the heat. Those are just three of the many reasons why I don’t do much yard work. I love the saturated colors of the flowers gently swaying in the breeze, and the rich perfume that saturates the air, and thick, smooth green grass. I always notice beautiful landscaping elsewhere, but it takes a lot for me to do something about my own yard.
Two of my good friends, knowing this about me, decided to clean up and plant my front flowerbed for my birthday. Unusual purple flowers, cheerful yellow mums, no weeds, and a pretty, multi-colored stone now greet me when I come home. While they were working, I asked about a particular plant that grew straight up out of the ground cover. It was tall and ungainly but had a pretty flower. Was it a weed? Yes, I was told. Anything that grows where you don’t want it, no matter how pretty, is still a weed. It’s not about the plant itself; it’s about whether it belongs where it is.
I’ve been conversing lately with someone who hurt me many years ago. I didn’t realize how much anger and bitterness I harbored in my heart until confronted with it. I realized I needed to let it go, and since I did I’ve been overwhelmed by the feelings of healing and wholeness that replaced the ugliness. Until I found peace, I hadn’t been aware of its absence.
Turns out, although my hatred was there all along, I had mistaken it for something it wasn’t. I’d tried to convince myself that, though it wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t exactly offensive, so it didn’t have to go. I thought that I was doing the right things, acting as a Christian should: loving my friends and family, accepting myself, and being aware of my shortcomings. What I didn’t realize was that among the colorful blessings in my life, sown in the midst of the daylilies and irises and roses, was a big old honkin’ weed. Somehow, gently and quickly, God has pulled the hatred out of my heart, removed that bitter root and replanted. Now that ugly weed is no longer choking out the things that are supposed to grow there. All of the sunlight and nourishment I am given will be used to cultivate something beautiful.
I can’t wait to see my garden when it’s full-grown.
Two of my good friends, knowing this about me, decided to clean up and plant my front flowerbed for my birthday. Unusual purple flowers, cheerful yellow mums, no weeds, and a pretty, multi-colored stone now greet me when I come home. While they were working, I asked about a particular plant that grew straight up out of the ground cover. It was tall and ungainly but had a pretty flower. Was it a weed? Yes, I was told. Anything that grows where you don’t want it, no matter how pretty, is still a weed. It’s not about the plant itself; it’s about whether it belongs where it is.
I’ve been conversing lately with someone who hurt me many years ago. I didn’t realize how much anger and bitterness I harbored in my heart until confronted with it. I realized I needed to let it go, and since I did I’ve been overwhelmed by the feelings of healing and wholeness that replaced the ugliness. Until I found peace, I hadn’t been aware of its absence.
Turns out, although my hatred was there all along, I had mistaken it for something it wasn’t. I’d tried to convince myself that, though it wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t exactly offensive, so it didn’t have to go. I thought that I was doing the right things, acting as a Christian should: loving my friends and family, accepting myself, and being aware of my shortcomings. What I didn’t realize was that among the colorful blessings in my life, sown in the midst of the daylilies and irises and roses, was a big old honkin’ weed. Somehow, gently and quickly, God has pulled the hatred out of my heart, removed that bitter root and replanted. Now that ugly weed is no longer choking out the things that are supposed to grow there. All of the sunlight and nourishment I am given will be used to cultivate something beautiful.
I can’t wait to see my garden when it’s full-grown.
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