The Better Version of Me

Okay, it's confession time.

When I graduated from UC Berkeley (ah, so many years ago!), I was a cynic. I had entered the school an innocent, idealistic, optimistic 18-year-old, and left a sarcastic and pessimistic 21-year-old. It took me a while to realize the change in me, and to realize that putting on the air of being tough and snarky was not the way I wanted to relate to people. It may be a good survival instinct in a world of pain and suffering, but it was not loving.

So I made a choice–I would rather be seen as naive, wide-eyed, and kind and generous to a fault, than be seen as witty, sophisticated, and fashionably dark and fatalistic. I worked on cultivating the skill of seeing people through a positive lens and giving them the benefit of the doubt. And I realized that it wasn't the environment of UC Berkeley that had made me a cynic; it was the part of me that wanted to stand out and be noticed. In this world, the quiet, kind person doesn't tend to get much attention. But to be kind is a gift, not a failing.

Now, I find myself at these crossroads again.

Only this time, something had unknowingly crept up on me over the past twenty years. While I was trying to be kind by being quiet and deferential, there were people in my life who told me, "Speak up! You should get what you want! You deserve it!" I started believing that it was better to always know what I want and to be verbal about it!

But now there are times when I regret what I say. I want so much to make my opinion be known that I blurt it out with no thought to the other person, and then later find myself asking, "Did I say that out of love, or in an attempt to look superior? Does my opinion always have to be know? When does it really matter that I speak my thoughts?"

The answer is that I still desire to be noticed, and I sometimes state my opinion merely to bring attention to myself, like the gong in I Corinthians 13:1.

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. (I Corinthians 13:1 NIV)

Even if I say some pretty amazing things, without love, I am still saying nothing.

And I Peter 4:8-11a (NIV) says, Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms. If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God...

I know that the best thing to do is to strive for a balance between tight-lipped and being loquacious, because there are times when I do need to speak up, in truth and love. But if I really had to choose today which "Rita" I would rather be–the quiet, reserved one or the loud, opinionated one–I choose the first. Even if it would mean that I may never again give my strong opinion on anything, I would rather have the words that come from my mouth be healing, not wrecking.

Grains of Sand

I reread an old post from December 2011 and found it to be encouraging, in light of my latest post. These photos show grains of sand, courtesy of Professor Gary Greenberg and his book, Grains of Sand. To our naked eyes, sand looks like tiny brown rocks. But when magnified, we can see that each grain is amazingly unique.

Not only that, some are precious gems, just so minute that we don't realize it. Can you imagine... if God can make each individual grain of sand so beautiful, how much more does He care for us? God is in even the tiniest details!

We look at sand and think of it as ordinary and unremarkable, but let us remember that oftentimes the "ordinary" can be extraordinary! We may pass our time daydreaming of doing "bigger" things, when what is important and beautiful is right under our feet: time with our children, calling an old friend, inviting a neighbor over.