Average, an existence in the middle of the road. The place most of us do not want to be. We are all taught to strive for more. We see it happening more and more; competition once thought of as healthy, is now a way of life. Children, toddlers, babies are placed on waiting lists to be selected to go to preschools! Well, what do you do when average is all there is to you?
Something inside of us strives to be special. We need to be outstanding in our own right, and it generally isn’t enough that we are all individuals. Therefore the search begins, what do I have that sets me apart? Is it a chick thing? I am sure we women feel it very strongly. We react to it in our style of dress, hairstyles, etc. a number of outward appearance things. Yet, I know men feel it too. Theirs, I believe, is a more inward struggle.
God created such amazing individuals; there are great talents, astounding beauty, and insurmountable intelligence. What can be said to the “Regular Joes” of the world. The difficulty comes into play as you come to terms with this average status; for just because you are of this status doesn’t mean you do not want to do something extraordinary, it doesn’t take away from the fact that you truly want to be special. You wander aimlessly trying to escape your terribly normal existence. You grab at any inkling of something that suggests you are above the rest. We are taught to think outside of the box, but oddly enough we forget that most things are geared toward those who fit neatly within that same box.
Tread carefully friends in your quest to stand out; you are at risk of doing something that may make you stand out, but not necessarily in a positive fashion or in a way you want recognition.
I will close with my version of a Grimm’s Fairy Tale, a metaphor relating to this piece. Once upon a time there lived a plain little flower, her home in a modest meadow. In the meadow there were lots of other flowers. There were beautiful roses, there were fragrant gardenias, there were fabulous lilies, even the perky daisies drew attention. The plain little flower would go virtually unnoticed among these other spectacular plants. Sometimes in the shadowy part of the day she would feel sad and let her foliage droop. “No one cares about me with all of these other bright, exciting, pretty flowers around. It doesn’t matter what I do.” One day a truly handsome prince came upon the meadow. He was something to behold. His smile was bright like a daffodil. He was as beautiful as any rose. His eyes were bright and perky like the daisy. All of the flowers stood up really tall, so he would notice them and he did. He took in all of the sights of all of the beauty that was surrounding him, but what captured his attention was the plain little flower….
What do you suppose happens next? What if your answer defines you?