An Ordinary Woman

or·di·nar·y

1.

of no special quality or interest; commonplace;unexceptional: One novel is
brilliant, the other is decidedly ordinary; an ordinary person.

For the past few years I’ve been considering what it means to be ordinary. I’ve even come to accept that, indeed, that is exactly what I am. But yesterday I looked at my statement that I am just ordinary and I asked myself, “Why is it so important that I see myself as ordinary?” And I realized it is because I am afraid. I know what it feels like to disappoint people: people whom I love, people who don’t really know me, people that matter to me and those who count on me. I see that if I give myself the excuse of being ordinary, I don’t have to apologize for letting people down, or making a mistake. I don’t have to aspire to great things and I don’t have to feel devastated when I’m not the person I think I should be. And that leads me to the core of the problem: the biggest issue is my fear of what God expects from me and how fearful I am of disappointing him. So take the expectations away and you take the fear away. That is what I mean by ordinary – free of expectations.

But it’s not that simple. True, I am a human being and I make mistakes, no one is perfect. I am not unlike many other people. But I am also a person God delights in and rejoices over, I am the apple of his eye, his thoughts about me are more numerous than the grains of sand, too many to count, he has adopted me into his family, and he loves me with an everlasting love. So maybe it’s time to aspire to a better definition of myself. Maybe it’s time to look fear in the eye and yell, “If God is for me, who can be against me!?” Maybe…? Forget that – now is the time!

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