Remember when you used to do random scavenger hunts for your coworkers? And remember when you used to have people over for movie nights and you used to make all these fun little finger foods. Oh! Oh! And remember how you decorated the break room to look like a tiki lounge that one time.
You used to be so awesome.
No one has actually said these things about me. I don’t think. But I’ve been thinking them lately. Like recently: I teach science at a tiny school district in the heart of the country. Once a quarter, each of the middle school teachers is responsible for decorating a bulletin board. This is what I came up with this quarter.
It’s cute, and clever, I’ll admit. But it doesn’t really meet the mark when I’m capable of this:
As I stood in the hallway, cradling my chin in my hand to ponder my sub-par bulletin board, I started to wonder. When did I stop being awesome? But this still small voice inside me started to speak, and in the hallway left in the eerie quietness that all public institutions bear when empty, I listened. And here’s what I heard: I’m still awesome. My awesomeness has just shifted. And it will continue to shift. There was a time when I was a rockin’ momma. I did crafts with my kids DAILY! We went to petting zoos and camping and carnivals and the zoo and museums. We had picnics and went to the park all the time. I don’t do that stuff with my kids any more. And in the process of beating myself up over it, I realized I don’t do that stuff any more because my kids are teenagers, and they don’t LIKE that stuff any more. So I have to evolve and shift my awesomeness elsewhere. Think of it as the awesomeness Cupid Shuffle.
There are seasons in our lives. Lysa Terkeurst embodies this concept so well with this quote: “Like a tree, a woman can’t carry the weight of two seasons simultaneously. In the violent struggle of trying, she’ll miss every bit of joy each season promises to bring.” -The Best Yes. We can’t bear the weight of the leaves of spring and the snow of winter simultaneously. Knowing this is freedom. Freedom from the self-imposed and sometimes others-imposed expectations for us to keep doing all the awesome things we’ve always done while taking on more awesomeness.
As I stood in that quiet hallway, I realized this: I am still awesome. While I haven’t recently hosted a literature festival for 500 students, or won a float contest in a parade, or redecorated the entire house again, I have a book on submission. I’m teaching some awesome kids and we’re doing the coolest projects. And I’m playing in a rocking worship band twice a week. That’s enough for right now.
I hope you can take joy in looking back on the seasons you’ve had the pleasure of taking part in, and you can bring yourself to let go of your leaves when it’s time to enter another season. Know this: You are awesome. You always have been, and you always will be.