Are

When you look in the mirror at home,

You are fine and happy with what you see.

The problem is when you step outside of the home.

That's where the mirrors reflect something else.

Something other.

Gathered in a room of girls,

Silently competing,

"Fine and Happy" suddenly isn't cutting it.

That skirt you thought was fetch,

Their eyes squint at it, but then smile up at you betrayingly.

You look down,

And its newfound ugliness pierces through you.

And yet again,

That ugly deceiver rears its head

Oh no,

Not envy.

We are aware of envy's danger, it's hold, it's wrath.

We are wise to envy's game and the lies of the grass being greener.

So it sends, instead, the coy and looming face of its partner:

Comparison.

I remember the night,

Months previously,

As I did my far too regular trawl of Facebook,

I saw a mother describe how her bundle had finally cracked it and was getting to sleep at 6:30pm and sleeping through the night.

The words grabbed me.

My sane brain left, and my over achieving mind took over.

It started off being happy and pleased knowing the rest a mother needs,

The difficult season the early days of babies are,

And the relief her soul must feel.

Then like a snake it winded cunningly down another dark path,

One where I, once again, questioned my mothering skills:

"Why cant I get my child to sleep?!"

"What am I doing wrong?!"

"'Am I not a good mother?!"

The path weaves further, leading to an ugly pit:

"Why isn't Zella like that child?!"

That's where comparison grabs you,

To that place where even those you love,

Those most close,

most vulnerable,

Risk being attacked.

If I play that evil game,

With my precious babe at just 4 months young,

Then where will I be in 4 years or 14?!

How bruised and damaged will her self-esteem be??

For isn't the root cause of the too-skinny

Too-fat

Too-stressed

Too-overworked

Too-drugged up

Too-overachieving

Lying naked and stripped at the feet of comparison??

The saddest thing of all,

The true travesty of the situation,

Is that comparison steals your joy.

Steals your now.

Steals the things of beauty,

Laid before you in this moment.

At present, my favourite thing about Zella is the way she is with people.

Long did I imagine, hope and pray for a child who would not just be ok with others,

But revel in the wonder and fun of new people.

As our dear friend came over and sat on our sofa Sunday night

Zella played with her face

Smiled brightly

Burped responsively

Cuddled tightly

And brought more joy to an individual than I ever thought she could as such a young thing.

And as we travelled across the Atlantic

She took her spirit of woo

Of charm

Of love

At the airport check in desk

Sweet smiles to the security guards

Passengers apprehensive about her small life and potential cries

Were enveloped into her grin and giggles

And as each friend in Texas called her name

She reached arms swung wide open

Almost falling into their embrace

To stroke their face and nuzzle close

If I stand in the place of looking at others side-by-side to her,

I miss seeing her as she sits, just as she is, on her own, as her own individual.

I cannot and will not compare myself to another.

And I most certainly cannot and will not compare my child,

my kin, my babe, fruit of my womb,

To any other.

I will not buy into that silent lie,

That breeds bacteria of discontent.

She, just the way she is,

Like husband, just the way he is,

Like me, just the way I am,

Is more than enough.

Just right.

Complete.

These words will I speak into her,

Over her,

Through her,

With her.

"Zella, you are fine and happy, just the way you are."

Joneses

I want to be like the Joneses.

The Joneses are a great couple.

Fun, lively, adventurous.

And most importantly,

They have lots of money.

They’re both professionals, well respected in their jobs,

And at the end of the month, when their pay cheque arrives

They don’t weep with sadness.

The Joneses love to travel and go and see their friends all the time

They always buy everyone’s drinks at the bar

They produce the most unique and expensive birthday presents for friends

Their clothing is impeccable.

Parties, at the fancy hotels they hire, are an extravagant evening of outrageous fun.

Holidays are filled with business class jaunts across the world

And they can often afford to pay

for other members of their family to join them.

The Joneses are cool.

The Joneses are great.

But the Joneses are not the Millers.

And that makes me envious.

I have this nagging feeling that the Millers

will never be that couple who earn tons of money.

And I thought I was ok with that.

Neither one of us has a tremendous desire to climb the corporate ladder

After Miller man’s brief encounter of retail management,

he realised that he wanted to grow people and not profits

After Miller woman’s profound calling to youth ministry aged 15,

she knew that she was inspired by the thought of impacting the lives of the broken, young and hurting

Neither one of these comes with a massive pay packet

And that was ok

I thought

But five years following graduation

Not even earning enough to meet student loan pay off threshold

And you start to wonder

Is the life of the Millers that good

That effective

That profitable?

And you peek over the fence

And the grass looks lush and bright

And for just a day, or a week

It seems great to roll around

On the other side

Profound night thoughts make me ponder

What is true wealth?

For our wealth of experiences

Of travels to African continent

Jet set transatlantic life

Training people who impact a generation

Helping write book that calls others to action

Mentoring young people and seeing them thrive in their futures

Being told by non-Christians, that our faith seems so strong

Is there not a great richness in this as well?

And commitment made, and stuck to, alongside marriage vows

To live debtless

Unchained

Without credit card, store cards

Mortgage or car loan

And see the real freedom

That could be had

Are we not richer with bank balance that stays in black?

When Father’s holy word says

“fret not yourself”

and

“do not be envious”

I must remind myself

We are the Millers

Called to something different than the Joneses

Or the Smiths, or the Blacks, or the Scots

Our path is individual

And looking over fences

Merely distracts from the garden I am to tend on my own patch

Being rich is not a crime

Being poor is a not a sin

The real travesty of life

Is when I’m so blinded by the endeavour for the more and different to what I have

The world misses out on me concentrating

On the things I am called to

The things the Millers are meant to do.

Photo © Paul Green