My New Year's resolution is to stop pretending that I care about countertops.

(photo @ countertopsguide.net)

alert: kind of lengthy

When I was in my 20's, I found myself baffled at the depth to which some of my peers could discuss things like kitchen countertops. Countertop materials, color, edges. The list and their scrutiny seemed to go on and on. I thought this was a ridiculous waste of time.

Then we moved to the suburbs.

I slowly became aware that there is a Suburban Countertop Yardstick upon which Formica laminate (which we have) doesn't rate very highly. I made the mistake, over the last decade or so, of believing this mattered.

I can't turn my new year resolution into a task, and it doesn't fit neatly into one word, so I've chosen to describe it in this post title. Lo, it speaks for so much more than countertops, doesn't it?

While I am finished pretending to care deeply about inanimate objects whose main purpose is to hold stuff, it's what drives my desire to care that wreaks havoc. See, ultimately, I live in a community where there is a subtle but pervasive belief that not only are countertops (etc.) very important, but they serve as a measure of one's value. One's contribution (did you make a lot of money?). One's usefulness (did you make a lot of money?). One's success as a person (did you make a lot of money?). I'm so sick of it I could vomit. It probably doesn't help that I grew up in this area and have been privy (lucky me) to this sort of thinking for over 30 years.

Recently I found myself greeting each morning with a crying jag. Why? This took a bit of prayer to discover. I came to realize how utterly dead I felt inside and how utterly devoid my life was of evidence of the spirit I know I was born with. No creative outlet, no satisfying personal expression, no joy in the simple, beautiful things. In the last decade, I have, in a desperate (and disturbingly unconscious) attempt to fit in, shut off the most vital parts of myself, feeling that somehow they were a liability.

No one forced me to do this - I take complete ownership. And as such, I now take ownership of restoring myself according to original plans. I do not find countertops interesting, period. If I ever have to choose one, I will probably not discuss it with you, because who cares, really? I do not believe that shoes and belts need to match. I don't even believe that socks need to match. I believe that daily showering is overrated, and  I do not believe that Apple products impart special status on their owners. I don't care what kind of computer you have. Why should I?

You know what I care about? YOU. I care about how you are. I care about what you are going through. Not your countertops, or computer, or shoes, or pay level, or degree of teeth whiteness. If I'm your friend, I am friend to your God-given you, not your stuff.

I love nature and the incredible beauty to be found therein. I love the sound of trees in the wind and I love music. I love art, I love great writing, and I love wordplay. I love the absurd. I love puns. I love making interesting (and sometimes brilliant, if I may say so) connections. I love shedding new light. Seeing things in new and different ways. I forget things a lot. I can't stand getting ready in the morning because it takes too long and is boring. Which is why my hair doesn't get washed too often. I hate cooking.

Sometimes I find my thought processes far more interesting than the company of people. Sometimes I desperately need to be rescued from my thought processes by hanging out with friends. Unfortunately, I interrupt people when conversation seems to move too slowly. I'm always working on that. But I am also a great listener. I am more than happy to hear your problem and help you out. I am not detail oriented. At all.

I not only love but adore the big picture. It's where I am happiest. It's where I live. I love bringing my ideas to fruition. I hate being interrupted when I'm working. I love my kids beyond words. I am grateful beyond words for my husband. He is unbelievably precious.

Sometimes I experience taste as color. I see music as pictures. Sometimes I mix up red and yellow. Sometimes I completely lose track of what month or season we are in. When people don't "get" me, I have to remember they are traveling on a different highway system, and I graciously let them pass by. When I say "graciously," I mean graciously. Because sometimes people say rude, demeaning things when they don't understand. And I've learned that usually it's a waste of time to try and explain. And that their lack of understanding does not make them any less valuable.

I have always felt a bit different from "normal" people. Not screamingly so, but fundamentally somewhat different. I fell into the trap of fearing and resenting my differences, and I paid the price.

The truth is that God gave me my interesting contraption of a self for a reason. He knew I'd be able to appreciate it and operate it well. I owe Him an apology for harboring such disdain for the wonderfully unique self he entrusted to my care. I owe Him an apology for abusing my one-of-a-kind self with terrible, hateful thoughts. I will trust Him for acceptance, friendships, and belonging. I will trust Him.

So enough with countertops and on to the things that truly satisfy. Amen.

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition, when infinite joy is offered us. Like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at sea, we are far too easily pleased.  -C.S. Lewis