Unremarkable

I have a fervent desire to be remarkable. I want to be noticed by those around me. More than that, I want to be affirmed by them. Growing up, I was the child in the old home videos popping her head into the frame, waving obnoxiously, “Look at me, daddy!” or “Watch what I’m doing, mom! isn’t it good?!” while pounding clumsily on the keys of a toy piano (evidently I didn’t inherit the family’s musical gene). My parents would laugh and say something like, “Wow Brianna, good job!” before panning back to whatever it was that they had pulled the camcorder out to document. As I got older, I did well in sports and school because I was given tangible things, like grades and scores, that represented the approval I craved. I responded similarly when I went into the workforce. As humans, we all desire to be notable, to have external validation. It’s built into us, although it presents itself differently from one person to the next. The desire to be remarkable is, in itself, entirely unremarkable.

Now, here I am, twenty-six years old. A starry-eyed, stay-at-home wife and mother, mediocre cook, haphazard homemaker, experienced procrastinator, and fledgling writer. I am, on all accounts, unremarkable. What’s more, there aren’t any tangible avenues for external validation in my current position. The audience doesn’t cheer, I don’t receive scores or competency evaluations. I am not graded for how well I complete my tasks. Nevertheless, I must complete them.

I have noticed, however, that the more I toil and invest in my little unassuming corner of the world, the more I see the ways in which I have been prepared for it all along. I was created to be Joseph's wife, Shirley's mother, Wayne and Donna's daughter, and sister to so many. I say that not because I am doing everything perfectly, or even well, for that matter. I say it because I can see the ways in which my current role stretches and challenges me. I am struggling and so often failing. Yet, through it all, I am being molded and refined with an irresistible force and heat that no other occupation can produce. This is where I am supposed to be.

Although my life may look commonplace from the world's perspective, I find confidence in the knowledge that I wasn't born to be extraordinary or to change the world. I was born to bring glory to the one who created it. Glorifying Him means earnestly living the humble life that He has so graciously given me. It means dying to myself and washing that pile of dishes. It means serving these people, raising these children, and cultivating this home. My role will undoubtedly change as the years go by… but my worth, my purpose, and my identity are found in Christ and His completed work on the cross. That fact is unchangeable. I needn’t look for affirmation on this earth apart from Him. I find that quite remarkable – and freeing.

I know I will experience many days of weariness, defeat, and grief. I will sometimes feel unseen and unappreciated. But I must continue to run the race set before me and keep faith. I must look forward to the day when, at long last, I will stand before my Creator and hear the single affirmation that my tattered soul has been long yearning for, one that will echo in my heart for eternity: "Well done, good and faithful servant.”