I am a klutz.
No, really, I am. I’m painfully clumsy.
I am a certified, guaranteed accident waiting to happen - a tornado of kinetic energy that could unleash its full fury of awkwardness and embarrassment upon a moment’s notice. For real, y’all - it’s really bad. And the more hurried and rushed I am, the more dangerous I become. I recommend leaving yourself a buffer zone of ten feet when I’m around, but even then I can’t entirely guarantee your safety.
Now before you launch into an argument with me, let me just say that I’m not trying to hate on Rachel. I’m not necessarily throwing myself a pity party here, I’m just being honest. I am, without a doubt, one of the clumsiest people alive on Planet Earth.
Oh, you’d like me to prove this assertion? Okay! I can give you a few examples:
-I once walked out onto a patio, closed the sliding glass door behind me, and two minutes later when I decided to go back inside, FORGOT that I’d closed the door and proceeded to slam into it at full walking speed. If I remember correctly, I deposited a smudge on the door akin to the size of my face. (I regret not setting up a video camera for that one. Sorry, AFV.)
-I have broken or sprained each of my ankles on separate occasions: once when my left foot slipped out from under me on wet grass and I sat on my right one; and the other time, by walking. You read that correctly…I was engaging in the highly dangerous act of walking when I sprained my ankle. You should be impressed.
-In one instance I tripped on air and landed sprawling, face down, in the middle of my school hallway. In a skirt, no less. I also tripped on a rug once in a grocery store and faceplanted in front of the broccoli. Happened to be wearing a skirt then, too. I….don’t really wear skirts much anymore.
-On various occasions I have had shards of glass, plastic, and half a broken sewing needle lodged in my foot. I have a knack for stepping on sharp objects.
-I have lost count of how many dishes I’ve broken, but I think it’s somewhere around 37? My record for Most Dishes Broken at One Time is 11. For now.
-I obtain some sort of new cut, scrape, or bruise daily. I honestly don’t know where I get them from. I’m guaranteed to have a band-aid somewhere on my person at all times.
-I have been in two embarrassing bicycle accidents. In the first accident I received a gravel-filled third degree burn on my knee from the road; the battle scars from that escapade resemble zebra stripes. Very attractive.The second accident resulted in me slamming into a curb at about fifteen miles per hour, catapulting myself into a stranger’s yard, and skidding to a stop on my elbows mere feet from some innocent little girls trying to have a tea party. The bike went flying, bent and mangled, in the opposite direction across the road. Needless to say those kids were scarred for life. I haven’t touched my bike since.
-I know where all the doorknobs are in my house, but I somehow manage to whack an arm on them every few days as though they’ve relocated.
-I have also sliced my foot open between my toes. WORST place possible for a deep cut, I assure you. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I will say that it involved an electric fan, a plastic bin, and a nasty carpet burn. It wasn’t pretty.
-If I look ahead and watch where I’m going, I trip on things…but if I watch my feet, I walk into the wall. (I can’t win for losing.) I burn myself…slice my flesh open…trip off of curbs…drop things…knock things over. Sometimes people. Blood doesn’t bother me much because I’ve gotten so accustomed to seeing my own.
You get the idea….I’m not graceful. At all. This is the reason my mom affectionately refers to me as Amelia Bedelia, that annoyingly loveable housemaid who gets everything mixed up and ruins anything she puts her hands on. She has the Midas touch of destruction. I can relate! As a result of my clumsiness, I tend to be more than a bit self-conscious. My dignity teeters precariously between slightly confident and utterly mortified. I’m terrified of someone witnessing one of my humiliating accidents! At least I’m good for a laugh, I suppose. And don’t even get me started on things that come out of my mouth…that’s a mile-long blog post for another time. But all too often, I base my self-worth and confidence on my sense of self; in all honesty, how I feel about myself depends on how I look and act, and the opinions I assume others have of me.
I’m sure I can’t be the only one, right?
Society places so much pressure on us to conform, especially as women. Your appearance and conduct determines your worth to others. It’s no wonder so many of us dislike ourselves and struggle with identity - we can’t possibly measure up to the world’s expectations, no matter how hard we try! It’s an endless cycle of futility and depression.
This is where I really struggle. I know the truth, but it’s just so hard to believe!! Somehow it’s easier to listen to lies that float through my head, rather than base my self-worth on the solid foundation of Scripture.
"You’re so clumsy. It’s like your limbs have a mind of their own."
"What on earth did you just say?? Boy, you’re pretty stupid. You don’t even have a filter between your brain and your mouth. Everyone probably thinks you’re an idiot."
"You’ll never fit in. You’re just too weird and different. Who would want to be around you when you’re so goofy and strange? Everything you say and do will always be misunderstood. You’re so annoying."
"You can’t do anything right."
I have thoughts like this every. single. day. I’m sure you do, too! And squashing them is a serious, full-time job. But you know what I’m slowly learning?
My identity is found in Christ - who HE says I am, not in what others think or say of me… or in my circumstances… or how I feel. Though these things can and do fluctuate, what Jesus says about me never changes! If I base my self-worth on what others think - which I can only assume - or how I feel, which is constantly changing - my confidence comes crashing down every time. It’s so easy to find myself trapped in a whirlwind of depression and anxiety, trying to squeeze my piece of the puzzle into a spot it was never made to fit. Slowly but surely, Jesus is teaching me not to allow my feelings and environment to dictate who I am.
Psalm 139:13, 14, 16
“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”
“For he chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us to be adopted as his sons (and daughters!) through Jesus Christ.”
“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”
1 Samuel 16:7
“The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.”
1 Corinthians 3:16
“Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives in you?”
2 Corinthians 1:21-22
“Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.”
No matter how you feel, what Jesus says about you is the real deal. You can’t earn this identity; it was freely given by His grace and redemption alone. So because you haven’t done anything to earn it, you can’t do anything to take it away! No matter how badly you mess up, this truth stays the same. You can’t change how God feels about you.
I mess up, OFTEN, but Jesus is okay with that - in fact, He knows it will happen! I am human, after all. I’m supposed to make mistakes. But what these verses tell me is that Jesus wants me. Clumsy, awkward, uncoordinated me! He’s not even embarrassed of me. He sees beyond the imperfections and the goof-ups…He sees my heart.
"Cuz I got a couple dents in my fenders
Got a couple rips in my jeans
I try to fit the pieces together, but perfection is my enemy
And on my own I’m so clumsy, but on Your shoulders I can see
I’m free to be me!"
Thanks to Francesca Battistelli for writing a song about me. This song is my ANTHEM.
I was created for a purpose. I am adopted as His daughter. I belong to Jesus, and no clumsy mistake on my part can change that. That pretty much makes me a princess. (Albeit, a Mia Thermopolis-esque princess.)
As long as I’m not required to wear heels…I’m cool with that.