He listens to the music with a blissful look on his face, arms going “round and round,” feet dancing in circles. He’s just a two-year-old in a diaper, but for the self-assurance he displays, he could be the president ( I dare you to catch the president dancing around in a diaper to “The Wheels on the Bus”!).
I learn something new from JQ every day. His insistence on doing things by himself even when he’s only going to fail (I do, Mommy), his patience when he has to repeat himself five times and we still don’t understand what he’s saying, the ease with which he greets people, and the quickness with which he comforts a crying baby. Basically, he’s the person I always wanted to be but wasn’t.
To someone who’s been afraid of everybody her whole life, always second-guessing everything I do and say (and feeling awkward regardless), this utter lack of self-consciousness is mostly only something I dream of having. I’m pretty sure I was terrified of people even when I was two.
This kid, though? I’m pretty sure he escaped the awkward-introvert-who-can’t-think-of-small-talk gene. He makes friends wherever he goes–with old ladies on the bus, kids on the playground, and anyone who will smile at him on the train. Sure, he doesn’t like creepy old men who stop and pinch his cheeks or try to get him to come with them (just, why?), but then, who does?
Someone once said to me that they thought Christians could only be extroverts–that people who are quieter or find it difficult to talk to people should change their behavior to always be outgoing and friendly, ready to talk to anyone at any time. I’ve thought about this comment a lot over the years: do I need to change who I am (I’ve tried, and so has my mother), and even the way I look at the world? Was I created wrong? Ungodly?
And as I’ve thought about this, the more I think it’s wrong. Yes, it’s decidedly more socially acceptable to be the friendly chatterbox who loves being around people ALL THE TIME. But socially acceptable doesn’t mean it’s the way things have to be. It doesn’t mean that my gifts don’t matter. It doesn’t mean that every Christian has to be your neighborhood joy-exuding person who never met a stranger. If everyone was a chatterbox, who would shut up and listen to them?
As I’ve grown older, I’ve stopped worrying so much about what I have or don’t have and wishing I was different. Now, I focus on what I can do and do it the best I can. Turns out I can talk just fine as long as I know what I’m talking about (though I still don’t like small talk and just sit there in awkward silence most of the time).
So what I’ve learned from JQ? Live life with exuberance and joy, not always wishing for something you don’t have or to be someone you aren’t. I’m not any less of a person because I hate going up to someone just to say hi. And if you’re the neighborhood joy-exuding person? Hooray! The world needs you too.