What my mom has that I don’t…or…

Happy weekend dear reader!

I hope that you get the opportunity to truly rest and recharge this weekend.

I apologise, in advance, if this post borders a bit on the serious side…I have also recently read that we should apologise less (but more about that in another post).

The past few weekends have been crazy busy, and I have found that this weekend is the first in a while where I can be at home and attend to a little bit of introspection…or what us introverts refer to as…heaven.

My mom has always had the ability to see potential. In houses. In people. In opportunities. I am someone who wants the finish product.

Where my mom sees an opportunity for a piece of heaven, I see a dilapidated house. Where my mom sees the potential in someone to be a great, I see a person with way too many issues.

Wildflower Blog Pic.jpg

And then came life and it taught me so many lessons:

The story of me

I’ve never been exceptionally great at anything. I grew up being a wallflower – I wasn’t popular, or pretty, or great at sport (okay, I was horrible), or the best dancer (I was good enough) or the top achiever (top 5 is probably acceptable). If I had to walk past you , you wouldn’t look twice. I doubt that you would even look once. I grew up in a small town, I was an only child, I was an extreme introvert.

I went to Varsity and auditioned to be a cheerleader. The manager called me aside and said words that I will never forget: “You can join the group, but you will have to work hard, you have potential but you are a bit bulky.” He meant fat. They groomed me. They taught me about hair, make-up, tanning, losing weight, being healthy. Hard work. Working out and dancing 40 hours a week.

It changed me. It saved me from putting on more weight, from going out and binge-drinking even more. And who knows what horrible decisions I would have made if I carried on with that lifestyle? All because my manager saw potential. Notwithstanding the fact that so many people judge the cheerleaders, it was the place where I learnt so much and developed my potential. And, how I met my husband.

The story of my husband

If I had one rand for every time someone asked me “how do you hold out with Vaughn”, I wouldn’t be in a position where I’m currently counting the hours to pay-day. These people are normally those who went to school with him, or were part of his early days, or are just idiots whose opinions should be in the box called “keep it to yourself”.

We all have early days. You know that 18 to 22-year-old gap where you make questionable decisions? Except, my husband’s experiences and family were more publicised, more in the lime-light – as my husband would say, the reach was further. My husband was an extreme extrovert. He would go out six out of the seven days of the week. Every weekend had to be a social event of note. He didn’t grow up with the routine and cotton-wool life I grew up with.

Then introvert met extrovert. If you had to write down our individual biographies, personality profiles and future plans, you would not arrange for myself and Vaughn to go on a blind-date. But God has a sense of humour.

We clicked. Our first date lasted eight (8) hours.

I helped my husband discover God again. I helped him calm down. I believe (and he may comment if I am wrong) that I helped him become a better version of who he already was. That Avril Lavigne Sk8erboi song? It’s about potential. The boy that once was. The boy that nobody thought would settle down? That’s my husband. The man who would do anything for his family. The man who would wish that our son wakes up at night just to hold him some more. The provider. The man who, now, will maybe go out once a month instead of once a day, because he is committed. He had potential. I didn’t see it, I must be honest. I wasn’t looking for it. I actually just really liked him all along and he developed into what God planned for his life.

But…he wasn’t the big problem or the one who needed the most help. Like I said, God has a sense of humour. It was me. When Vaughn first met me I would hide behind him at every social opportunity. If there was more than just him in a conversation, I would be like that child who hides under her mother’s dress. (I did that, so by the way.) He slowly, but surely, without pushing, brought me out of my shell. I can now talk to strangers. I can hold a conversation with people that I do not know. I am less judgmental. Less black and white. More forgiving. More streetwise. Thanks to him.

Maybe…

So maybe I did learn something from my mom that I didn’t realise until now.

I urge you, over the course of this weekend, to look for potential in every opportunity. To look for potential in every person. To love people for who they can be, not for who they necessarily are. I’m not saying you can turn somebody into something they aren’t. But the same power that lives in Jesus, who overcame death, lives in you – so I’m sure with a little faith and a lot of prayer anything is possible. #justsaying

Let’s look at people through Jesus’ eyes. The one who though a tax collector could make a good disciple. Or a murderer and persecutor could build His church. Who thought a prostitute was worthy of forgiveness.

You might be quite surprised at what you may find, what you may learn, and what a blessing you may experience in the process…

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