Emerald’s Gem Box… I’m not a normal woman

The other day a friend and I were discussing yard work, planting flowers and crafts (and the fact that I do not like to do any of those things) and she brought up an old column I had written many years ago explaining exactly why I do not like doing those “womanly” things.
I pulled that old column up on my computer and re-read it. It brought back all the memories of the years and years of torment I put myself through, in my younger years, trying to be someone that I wasn’t. For years I thought something was wrong with me and I tried my hardest to try to be like “other women.”
There’s something to be said about that old adage “with age comes wisdom” for I have learned a lot in my “old age.”
And my wisdom grew from this …

I went through my early 20’s trying to be a “normal woman.” I’m not quite sure what I thought a “normal woman” should be, but I just felt that I didn’t match that mold.

Growing up, as a young girl and teenager, I worked on my Dad’s farm and in the newspaper business. I didn’t stay home and learn to cook, clean, and sew; I got up early every morning (and/or after climbing off the school bus) and learned how to brand cows, plant pine trees, hoe, pick vegetables, can vegetables, sell advertising, type, lay-out a newspaper, and run a printing press. When my Dad said, “C’mon boys,” that meant me too.

So, there I was at 20 years old, out on my own, and suddenly felt “un-womanly.” I could put in an 80-hour-week with the best of them but didn’t know how to do anything but boil eggs and put a pizza in the oven.

I quickly learned how to cook Hamburger Helper and learned to cook it often. To this day I hate Hamburger Helper; I cooked it so much back in those days I could go the rest of my life and never eat it again.

I went grocery shopping with a friend one day. As we traveled the aisles and put things in our carts, I came to the Hamburger Helper, and of course put several boxes, of different flavors, in my cart. She said to me (in a condescending voice), “You cook that?” “Yes,” I said (unaware there was something wrong with that.) To which she replied, “I don’t cook anything that comes in a box.” To which my reply was, “I can’t cook anything that doesn’t come in a box.”

I had another friend back in those days, who painted/made shirts. Oh, they were beautiful. She made several for me and even some for my Mom. So, I decided one day I should learn how to make shirts, for that seemed “womanly.” I went to a local store and bought all the paint, brushes, glitter, and t-shirts. I made ONE shirt and realized how that was not fun to me and not how I wanted to spend my time.

I then tried to learn to sew, but found that sewing was also not my “thing” either. I didn’t understand patterns and got aggravated just by trying to follow the directions. The end results of my sewing projects were never pretty.

One day, in my mid-thirties, we (the mothers) were all handed patches to sew on our daughter’s “Babe Ruth Little League” softball shirts. Several of my friends, that knew me well, offered to sew Cheltsie’s on for me. I politely declined, for I should be able to do this; I was, in fact, her mother and a woman. I sat in bed for two hours, near tears, sewing that darn patch on that sleeve, but finally got it on. But you better believe that when the next year rolled around and someone offered to sew Cheltsie’s patch on, I jumped at the offer.

I think my younger years hoeing, picking, shelling, and canning vegetables ruined me from ever wanting to grow my own garden; and a Daylily is the only flower I can plant and it actually lives.

I did, however, learn to cook through the years and actually do enjoy it to an extent. However, I do not like to bake, do not enjoy baking, and I do not bake anything that is “hard.” (Although… I can make a mean brownie.)

I do not want to grow my own food; I would rather buy it from a store or go to a restaurant and let someone serve it to me. I do not want to make my own clothes; I would rather go to a store and buy them.

But, with the wisdom I’ve gained in my old age, I’ve learned that God gives each of us our own strengths and weaknesses. He doesn’t make us good at everything. It is up to each one of us to determine what our strengths and weaknesses are and then to go forth and utilize what we have been given.
I might not be a “normal woman” but I’ve decided that is okay. I have learned that I do not need to be “normal.” I am who I am, and am happy with that.
Growing up I was taught to work. To this day, I would rather work than sit on my couch and watch T.V. doing nothing. I would rather be working at my newspaper office, or working at home washing clothes, doing dishes, organizing a closet, or cleaning the pool than sitting and watching T.V., gardening, or doing arts and crafts. (I do, however, enjoy time with my family, the beach, riding motorcycles, boating and fishing.)

I can balance a checkbook to the exact penny, pinch that penny ‘till there is no copper left, and I can make a monthly budget and stick to it. While I have to ask my friends to hem my slacks, I have friends asking me to help them come up with a household budget, teach them Quickbooks and accounting, help with their taxes, and/or help them learn how to balance a checkbook.

I can type 75 wpm correctly, I work hard at everything I do and fall into the category of a workaholic.
So, while all my friends are making Pinterest Boards, sewing blankets, making t-shirts, or refinishing furniture … you’ll usually find me working at my office or sitting with my laptop, cell phone, and pen and paper making notes about what I need to accomplish the next day!
The important thing in life is for us to learn to love ourselves for who we are and for who God made us to be. We should quit concentrating on our weaknesses and concentrate on our strengths.

If your God-given weakness (such as gardening or singing) is a three (on a scale of 1-10) and you try hard, every day, to perfect it, you might bring it up to a five. However, if your God-given strength (such as cooking, bookkeeping, or playing the piano) is a seven, and you concentrate on it and practice to perfect it, then you can bring it up to a nine or ten. I believe that is God’s true hope and desire for us; quit concentrating on the bad and start concentrating on the good.
Quit wishing you were like someone else or more of a “normal” person. Truth be known, that same person is looking at you and probably wishing that they were more like you.