I must confess I am a bit of a personality test junkie.
I can tell you my four letters for the Myers-Briggs, my number
I remember slapping down $5 as a pre-teen to have my handwriting
analyzed at a shopping mall kiosk.
I held the results incredulously and exclaimed to my
father, my surprise at how the typed paragraph
described me perfectly.
My father simultaneously shook his head and grinned
while asking me why I was shocked when the
letters spelled more than my name.
Yet I am always shocked.
For some reason, I have always wanted further
undeniable proof of “who I am” painted boldly
on a sky-high blimp.
Writing a piece of my life story last week was illuminating.
I hadn’t envisioned 5 days of full of words.
As silly as it may sound, I was caught off guard that there
were some interesting portions of my life.
I have spent much of my life choosing modesty at all costs.
I have pressed down areas of my life which were a big deal
and acted if they were not in the least.
During my second year at Mayo, I called a college classmate
She had banked on attending Mayo and I felt badly
that I was accepted instead of her and this influenced our conversation.
We took turns sharing our P.T. school experiences and
at every turn of our dialogue, I downplayed Mayo.
She on the other hand glowed about her program.
I hung up the phone and I felt like someone had thrown
a medicine ball straight into my midsection.
I definitely had struggles at Mayo but bottom line,
it was an amazing medical center.
Over the course of a half an hour, I had devalued
myself and my surroundings because I wanted
to make someone else feel comfortable.
She had moved on and was settled into her place,
I had not.
I was tiptoeing when I should have been pressing
the soles of my feet firmly in my shoes.
The past week taught me the importance of
sharing our stories.
I encourage you to whisper them when sitting across a
table or proclaim them while leaning
deeply into a worn-out sofa.
Even when you fear the details are plain and mundane,
I assure you they are not.
Our stories help us be known by others
and to learn about ourselves.
Bits and pieces of our life story intertwine us
in ways deeper than discussing weather patterns.
When Moses died, Joshua was chosen to lead the Israelites and
God tells him,
How would our lives change if we believed every square inch of land
we stepped on was ours to inhabit?
Would we see the people who cross into our plot of land as divine
Would we cease believing someone else was better suited for the
land than we are?
Our stories reveal we aren’t marking a place for someone else.
We stand shoulder to shoulder in prescribed measurements
of earth, let’s open our mouths and repeat our stories.