I am not like other people. My husband will tell you that I don't live in the same neighborhood as other people - and I'm okay with that. Unique is the label that I prefer (but I also stand proudly under the standard of strange, unusual, peculiar and different).
My uncle must get some credit for my ability to walk to a different beat. He was definitely different - just ask anyone in town! The stories that I have heard (and had the misfortune of experiencing first hand) could fill volumes of books - and will once I sit down and write it out. But his "creative" behaviors are not what get him credit for my uniqueness. It is the fact that he continuously pushed me to question everyone and everything.
Looking back, I suspect that what he was trying to do was not quite what I received. And that's okay. I took away from our talks the need to be the defender of the "little man." The underdogs became my battle cry. I embraced the outcasts. Not exactly popular actions in small town Alabama.
The other night I was washing dishes (and apparently even my muse dance to a different beat, this night it was the beat of dishwater) and it dawned on me that God has been training me to be around others. He has been molding me to be their glue â€“ to pull and hold them together.
"Fine," I mumbled to the dishes. Everyone else was already in bed. I was still up because I had committed to myself to do just one more thing before bed. Cleaning out the sink was it for tonight. "When is it my turn to have someone to pull me together?"
I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU NOR FORSAKE YOU.
The words weren't audible, but they felt audible. I remembered all the times while I was growing up when I would lay in my room and just talk to God, or walk down along the lake and talk to God. I began to understand that God is my glue! He is lifting me up. He is pulling me together. He is the one I depend on, not people.
I am getting back to my unique walk, with God as my glue. I'm taking time to talk to him, sometimes without even an awareness of where I am. When I thank Him for a blessing, out loud, in public, I know people look at me rather sideways. When I don't cry at funerals but rejoice in what is to come, I know what they are thinking. When I dance in the grocery store and sing from the joy that is overwhelming ever aspect of my being, I feel their stares. When I choose to the right thing instead of the easy thing, I can hear their whispers.
"She's not normal." "She's not like other people." "What is up with her?"
It's all good. I'm not like other people. I don't want to be like others. I was created with a purpose - I am unique - and I am called to be peculiar. I will take a cue from my crazy uncle, and continue to dance on roof tops, swing from chandeliers, or at least stand proud in the knowledge that doing what I know to do might make me stand out in the crowd, but it will bring me to my rightful place as God's heir.