Extravagant Love

I am NOT an engaging conversationalist. Oftentimes, I speak before I think, and I say the wrong thing at the wrong time.
I am NOT a hilarious comedienne. And sometimes I'm too slow to get somebody else's joke.
I am NOT a wise counselor. I want to be an advice-giver, but I am not gifted with discernment and don't always give sound advice.

Oh, I could go on. Everyday, I waste at least five minutes of my life wishing I was more like someone else. Though I am now much more mature than I was ten years ago, or even five years ago, I continue to wrestle with questions about my identity.

"Why did God make me this way?"

"How do I fit into God's kingdom?"

"Why can't I be more like HER?"

But I learned something this past weekend. While researching for a children's book idea and being guests in the home of my friend's grandparents, I learned the secret of being content with myself: take the little I've been given and make much of it. Just as God is extravagant with His love, I can be extravagant with mine. 

Before the trip, I baked pies and cookies to share. 
Once there, I listened with attentive ears and soaked up stories from the past. 
I serenaded my hosts with music on the piano. 
I enjoyed delicious, home-made, German food.
I raked leaves in the backyard and delighted in the beautiful, autumn landscape.
And when I came home, I painted my new friends a painting that reminded me of the dogwood trees in their yard. Inside the card, I will express my abundant thanks for their hospitality and kindness to me and my family.

And through all this, I never once found myself wanting to be someone else. I was enjoying myself so much by focusing on who I was rather than who I was NOT, that I did not waste my time envying others and doubting God.

So, my thirty-fourth birthday was a good one. I am another year older, and I can honestly say that I am another year wiser. And here's to a new year of unexpected joys, abiding contentment, and extravagant love.