Me, Uncle Rio and Justin Bieber.. we got something in common


It disgusts.. saddens… disappoints me, how pumped I felt when the lady at the park recognized me from high school… she had never known me personally, but recognized me.. was I on student council or… no.. in my own little high school I was famous for basketball.  When she recognized my name, my heart was so proud.  I felt so worthwhile, so important. Super pumped about the Heidi Suderman of old.

I have gotten rid of all but one pair of university basketball paraphernalia. I have cut jerseys and track pants into pieces, thrown team jackets, pants, etc, away.. all because they mean so much to me.
How do people do it? Be humble, I mean. No human was meant to be worshiped. Not that I was, but I was known and praised. It felt so good. As an adult I have had to deal with my great failure of a life because I have not arrived at any internationally known stage to display my greatness. I’m the overweight mom in the checkout line with kids who are super cute, and some days super well behaved, and other days not so much to the point that I get chided publically. I’m nothing special in the way I thought I was going to be. Not to downplay the importance of motherhood. It’s just that I really want to be the best. At something. At everything. And I’m not.

I’m not the best housekeeper. I have NOTHING to put on pinterest. Not the best cook. I’m not great at all at clipping coupons and shopping for deals. I have no idea what things cost. I have a temper. I don’t play guitar well. Most singers are way better than I am. And poetry, well, no one has ever wanted to publish anything I’ve written. My blog isn’t famous. I trained to teach Kindermusik, but my life is so busy I don’t have time or the capacity to continue making that happen. I can’t dance. I’m certainly not the most beautiful lady.  I’m not even in good shape.

So what. WHAT? These things are all true, and in one part of my mind and heart, it kills me and I wrestle with it. I wrestle desperately with it. But there is another part of me that is alive. The part that is enamored with Mother Teresa. The part that notices kind people, people that make me feel valuable, people that dignify people.. .people who look at my son Noah, who is challenged by autism and challenges others – and they think he is beautiful despite… despite everything.
Some people even have kind voices. Kind faces. Kind eyes. My eyes? I think they still say that we are competing and I want to win. 

When I was single I always said that when I got married I wanted it to be to someone who’s mind I respected, and who respected my mind. But when I met my to be husband, it was his heart that captivated and challenged me.

There is something greater than being the best, the smartest, fastest, the most… the most whatever. I wrote a song about a year or so ago about how I wanted to have eyes that were love and basically to be the safest person anyone, especially my family, would encounter.

I don’t know how to get there. I don’t know if there is a place to “get.” Grow I suppose…  I do want to be beautiful, fit, intelligent and a talented musician. Oh yeah, a great cook, great mom, stellar house keeper and wonderful wife.. I strive for these things. But if I meet my goals and become all these things, but am not kind, am not safe, am not securely positioned deeply in the hearts of my husband and my children and my friends…  and am a safe person for strangers to land, well, look at Justin Bieber. When he first came on the scene, I thought what a cool guy.. Seemed pretty normal. And then the world fell at his feet, and what has he become? He makes headlines for being a jerk. Do you blame him? Would I be any different? Am I any different? Just fewer people worshiping me so I can’t get away with being as arrogant as he is. I have the same heart though.



What is in the heart of someone who honestly, I mean HONESTLY doesn’t secretly judge, compare, evaluate, and compete with everyone else in the room?  One day I hope that my highschool and university basketball exploits (remember the movie - Napolean Dynamite -  his uncle Rio who kept throwing the football and reciting high school stats and facts?) mean nothing to me. Just good memories.

One day, I hope that I'm not so eager to accept accolades. They're nice, but they don't do or mean anything. Love and kindness? They have the power to change people for the better. 

Comments

Unknown said…
Heidi, I found this post after seeing the link on your Facebook page.

I do recognize the Heidi Suderman from Cornerstone in this little blog post. I recognize the competitive perfectionist who was you. And I recognize some of me in your description too. ;)

Your self-analysis demonstrates a maturity you did not have in high school. But it seems to me that your self-analysis may be just a little harsh - and that's the problem with perfectionists. We're hard on ourselves!

So you married your personality opposite - as so many of us do. You married someone whose heart made you feel safe. And that is good. :) As you continue to love him and admire him, you will become more like him, and you too will be able to make others feel safe. And yet you will still be the Heidi that is you, just gradually growing more mellow and loving.

I hope you don't get rid of that last pair of university basketball paraphernalia, though. Your history is part of who you are. It's okay to feel good about it. Think of visual aids for stories for your children.

As for your last question, "What is in the heart of someone who honestly, I mean HONESTLY doesn’t secretly judge, compare, evaluate, and compete with everyone else in the room?" I think it's partly a matter of maturity. We don't get there all at once. Perhaps trying to get there all at once is also part of the competitive/perfectionist drive?

Jesus compared spiritual growth to a plant. It doesn't spring up out of the ground full-grown. It takes time to mature. So will you, so do I. We all gradually become more like the persons we admire. Gradually ... Yes, Mother Teresa is a good model opposite to your personality, but she wasn't perfect either. An even better model is Jesus Christ.

It's a continuing journey, and I have found it to be a matter of focusing less on myself (stop analyzing and stop wondering what others think about you) and focusing more on Christ and on others. It starts each day by putting ourselves in the hands of Christ, asking Him to give us His mind for this day - one day at a time. (See Phil 2:5-8)

May you be blessed this day with the joy and peace only He can give. :)
8:13 PM
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