Happy August, My Friend!
Have you been watching any of the Olympics? I’ve turned on the TV more than usual lately, wondering what I might find. We all have our favorite events. I’d say mine are swimming and gymnastics.
One thing I’ve said to myself over and over this past week is, “They go so fast!!” Whether it’s Simone Biles running to do a vault, Katie Ledecky swimming length after length of a pool, or—holy cow! — those sprinters!! Their bodies seem to be flawless and so strong! I hear them talk about how long they’ve trained for this and how hard they work at perfecting their sport. These are the greatest athletes in the whole world. It’s made me feel deep admiration for these amazing people. It’s made me feel something else, though.
Ordinary.
I guess I shouldn’t feel too bad. I mean, there are 8.2 billion people worldwide, and only 10,714 Olympic athletes this summer are competing in Paris. There are many more ordinary people than G.O.A.T.s (greatest of all time). But, dang it all, I want to be a GOAT! I’ve wanted to be “famous” since I was a little kid. Famous for what? I don’t know, just . . . . something. I don’t want to be just another plain, ordinary person.
Some years ago, my book club read “Outliers” by Malcolm Gladwell. In it, Gladwell describes how to be considered an expert at something, one must practice it for 10,000 hours. 10,000 HOURS!!!! Factors like where you were born and when make a difference as well. That was so depressing to read. I mean, even the things I really like to do, I don’t want to do for 10,000 hours! It made me think about how I have spent my time; what should I be really good at? You know what I came up with? 1.) Figuring out what’s for dinner. 2.) Grocery shopping at Publix. 3.) Doing laundry. That’s it. Big whoop. They don’t hand out medals for any of those things at the Olympics.
I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad. I did the math. 8.2 billion minus 10,714 leaves 8,199,989,286 people who didn’t make it into the summer Olympics. I guess I’m in good company—a lot of company, anyway.
I have positively no medals on my shelves showing my achievements. I never did as a kid, and I haven’t earned any as an adult. (I never even got a lousy participation trophy. They were invented too late to benefit me.) I was involved in music a lot growing up and into adulthood but never came close to being even “one of the best” in any musical category. I didn’t play sports, so that wasn’t even a consideration. I got good grades in high school but was far from the top in that department.
As I’ve watched the Olympic athletes, my own ordinariness has become more apparent, which has made me think.
Is being ordinary such a bad thing?
I love a passage in the Bible that talks about ordinary guys. Here it is: “The members of the council were amazed when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, for they could see that they were ordinary men with no special training in the Scriptures. They also recognized them as men who had been with Jesus.” (Acts 4:13 NLT) Ahhhh, way to go Peter and John! You did well, and you were just ordinary guys!
I know we’re not supposed to seek approval from other people or care about how many or how much people “like” us. Can I just admit to you right now that it’s been a lifelong struggle for me to not care about what others think of me? It was very important to my mom—how we were thought of—and it’s been a hard thing to unlearn.
This morning, I was scrolling through my phone photos and looking at pictures from our family’s recent trip to Greece. We have a “shared album” there that we’ve all contributed to. I saw a picture of a few of us sitting outside at our rental house on the island of Naxos, where we were all together for a week. There is one picture where I am sitting in a chair, and my three-year-old grandson, Beck, is sitting next to me, looking up at me. I’m talking to my daughter-in-law across the table, so I’m not even looking down at Beck. Something about that picture gave me pause. My sweet grandson is looking up at me and I’m not even seeing him. But he sees me. He wants my attention.
That’s what really matters. That’s who really matters.
I might not have the world watching me as I’m the first to cross a finish line on a track or the first to touch the side of a pool after swimming my heart out. No one is chanting my name from the bleachers as I demonstrate my expert gymnastic moves on the floor below.
But I’ve got this little boy looking up to me. And he has a baby brother who will hopefully do the same thing. And there are three young girls in California who mean more to me than all the cheering fans at the Olympics. Those are the people I want to gain the favor of. I want to be famous for loving my family better than anyone else.
Hey! I think I just figured out how I’ve spent those 10,000 hours!
I’m sure you have someone who looks to you as well. If it’s not a child or a grandchild, I bet there is someone who thinks you’re “all that and a bag of chips.” I hope you feel loved and important this week, even if you’re just an ordinary person like me.
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
“To the world, you may be one person,
but to one person, you may be the world.”
Dr. Seuss
My sweet Beck.