That Girl

Sometimes I miss certain versions of myself. Just when I get comfortable with who I am and what I am doing, a change forces its way into my life. Just when I fling back my arms, breathe in deeply, tip my toes up and lean back, something comes and places the tip of its crooked pointer-finger upon the small of my back...steps forward, and purposefully eases me back into my standing position. "Not so fast, my pretty, we're not done here." I suppose this is God, but I have just described him as the wicked witch of the west. So, I don't know what to do with that.

What I mean is this: Change is good and I actually like it. This is why I enjoy teaching -every day is different and brings new challenges. Also, we get candy in our mail boxes and school t-shirts.

But.

Sometimes I really like the person I am and the spot I am in and when I leave that I place, I end up not being too fond of the girl and situation that replaces it.

 I admit that I am success-driven. If I feel like I will be successful then I run for it with ridiculous exuberance. If I feel inadequate then I shy away, make circles with my big toe, and put off the let-down of failure until the last moment possible. I can't escape change, though. It comes, whether I feel prepared for it or not. Sometimes it ends up being a change that I can welcome with pomp and circumstance. Other times it ends up being change that causes makes me to feel inadequate.

I have changed. Some for the better, some for the worst, but I have changed. And sometimes I miss who I was before.

I miss the version of myself that was happy with little. I  miss the version of myself that was overjoyed with a new soccer ball from Wal-Mart. I  miss the version of myself that would spend quiet time alone with God and not have to force myself there. I miss the version of myself that was selfless and motivated to help others out of unencumbered love. I miss the version of myself that would scale up the old Oak tree with a new book and sit and read until the ants made their debut in the edge of my sneakers. I miss the version of myself that didn't know the demands of a daily job or monthly bills or emotional roller coaster of the dating world. I miss the version of myself that wore pigtails because her favorite character in a book did. I miss the version of myself that divided her days into "school" and "after school" instead of "before work," "work," "during work," and "after work." I miss the version of myself that had time to commit to various activities. I miss the version of myself from when my grandmother died. I liked that emotional, tender-hearted, fearless girl.

I like a good, solid, natural change. But sometimes I inflict negative change upon myself, the kind that comes when I put off spending time in God's word. The kind that comes when I forget to go out of my way to serve others (instead of it being "on the way"). The kind that comes when I focus too much on myself and not Jesus. Sometimes the change is my fault and I ignore the repercussions until they're staring me in the face. And then I just have to deal and hope that some small ounce of that little girl and Jesus' goodness can bring me back.

So, change.

I have changed and I will continue to change. We like to hold on to a little bit of the previous versions of ourselves. We try to hold on only to the good bits. We fight against holding on to the bad bits. That pigtail girl is still in me. That fearless girl bubbles up every day that I have to say "no" to a teenager who is on the verge of a meltdown. That tree-climber, that high-flyer, that dreamer-girl is still in me. She hasn't left, only grown up. And so I will hold on - to the good bits - to the dreamer-girl and spunky adolescent of me.

So today I will see my world with new eyes, because Jonas did. Today I will step away from technology and errands and walk a pond with book in hand. Today I will get drinks with friends and give cheers to life and health and potential and pay checks. Today I will buy a new soccer ball and enjoy the thrill of one, cheap, unnecessary symbol of childish joy. Today I will buy another piece of furniture to restore because I like working with my hands. Today I will roller blade and paint my nails blue and go to bed at 9.

Today I will discover me because tomorrow I may change. Today I will relish the me that I wasn't yesterday and tomorrow I will sigh for the one I was today.