So you want me?
And that’s how you show it?
You’re gonna have to do better than that
If you want all of me
My heart doesn’t come so cheap
No, this love ain’t so free
Not up for just a one night thing
But a full-time affair
What I want is a little bit more
Than you just being there
If you got it in you
Only you can say
But you better let me know
In a little different way
So you want me?
At times I feel like I’m in elementary school, waiting on the playground for someone to pick me to play for their kickball team. For someone to say, “Hey you, there. We need you for our team!” Someone please pick me, I seem to cry out, in a variety of now semi-grown-up ways.
WORTH is something that me and my friends talk about alot. But it’s not about money or stuff that you own. It’s about how valuable you are to the world. To be honest, I tend to choose friends that I perceive to be valuable. You know, people that bring value to your life. As opposed to people that devalue your life, by treating you like crap. It seems like it’s pretty easy to tell when people don’t see your own personal value. Although, at the core of it, it’s probably not about you at all. It’s more about them not being able to see their true value that’s hindering them from fully loving you.
At times, I feel like I’m primping myself to get ready for the flea market. Not to go buy anything, but to put myself up for sale. I position myself just right on the folding table and watch the people walk by. “Free Samples!” I exclaim to certain strangers.
If I’m constantly looking for other people to determine my value (or the value of my art!), I’m only setting myself up for disappointment. The key for me seems to be found in taking time to meditate on how loved I am by God and the people around me who know me completely. I can take my question of value to them. But when I take that question outside of that small circle, I will certainly go crazy.
With my small band of brothers, we know that we have to constantly remind each other of our worth and value…it’s so easy to devalue ourselves…and easy to assume that other people don’t ever forget their value.
All together there were only twelve. But two of them were special. Sally knew that she was one of the special ones, mostly because of her braids. She didn’t realize that her braids were going to be what would get her in the most trouble.
Carmen would never have imagined herself to be one of the special ones. Mostly because of her teeth and bad acne.
Nobody liked Amanda. She thought she was better than everyone. Just because she was three inches taller than the other girls.
When it was time for the winners to be chosen, Sally stayed in her cabin. Amanda was up front and center.
The candles were burning and all the girls were sweating. It smelled like someone just cooked pancakes.
It was not so much that she had a fear of dying, she was actually afraid of the space between the time when you know you are going to die and when it actually happens. The consciousness of approaching death was making her knees feel like they were going to give out as she stood on the upper reaches of the church steeple. This was unlike any other church steeple Keri had ever seen. The top of Vor Frelsers Kirke, or Church of our Savior, was completed in 1696 by a man who desired to have the steeple able to be climbed by anyone who wanted to have one of the most spectacular views of Copenhagen. Rumor has it that the man finished wrapping the tiny steps up to the top and realized he had actually incorrectly constructed the stairway, wrapping it counter-clockwise up the steeple instead of the assigned clockwise manner, and jumped from the heights in a fit of desperation.
Keri could not stop thinking about how simple it would be jump from where she was at, the small protective wall barely reached over her knees. The group of friends she was with did not help; they were all pushing to get up as high as they possibly could, even though there was only space for one person to be where Keri stood. A gusty breeze made her hair blow in front of her eyes. As she reached for her hair, cautiously positioning it behind her ears, she pictured the architect jumping from where she stood and imagined the wind carrying him a bit to the left, probably landing near the sidewalk below. Some innocent passerby would most likely have had their day ruined by being in that place at that wrong time.
She certainly didn’t want to jump; she just felt how easy it would be to accidentally be nudged over the side. It was this feeling that Keri decided she wanted to avoid at all costs the entire rest of her life. She began thinking that humans are constantly moving through the space between life and death, even if they are mostly unaware of how that space is shrinking every day. That trip up the steeple was what it took for Keri to decide she had to begin taking control of her space.