The Long and Short of it

An old high school class photograph that a classmate had uploaded on Facebook some months ago, resurfaced on my homepage today. Apparently, there were some fresh comments on an already overloaded comment stream, that Facebook insisted I make note of. So I did.

There I find, a comment directed at me, which screams, “You were such a nerd!” And I’m glad! No, not for the nerd part, but for the past tense of that proclamation! You were. Which means, hopefully, that now, I am not.

But being called a nerd has never really bothered me. Being called ‘shortie’, on the other hand, always has. So it bugged me some, to see that printed on a very public page.

Being the shortest in the family – if you don’t count past pets and under-7-year-olds – still gets to me. From as far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be tall. It was even a fervent prayer request at one time. When that didn’t happen, I prayed for a tall boyfriend instead. God granted me that wish in the form of a 6-foot-something, Adonis-like guy. But I guess my prayer had been incomplete, because God had left out giving him brains.

So, my height hang-ups have continued through life, but there are times...Like when my little tyke throws his arms around me and tells me I’m his ‘bestest’ girl, or when I overhear him telling his friends that his mamma is the coolest in the whole world...

At times like these, I can sense some of my insecurities melting away. At moments like these, I feel ten feet tall.

And that, I know, is my prayer answered.