Birthday musings on comparitivitis

This is me thirty-two years ago. I can't believe I'm actually posting this, but I figured in honor of my birthday on Monday I'd post a picture of me from back in the day.

Can we say Mona Lisa smile? At least it's better than what one of my girls did to a photographer when she was a baby. She not only didn't smile, but she stuck out her tongue. Complete with eye roll and attitude. I totally love that baby picture now. ;-)

Thinking of my birthday has me a bit pensive. I'm afraid I'm burning out the few brain cells I have left after three pregnancies, but here are my wannabe sage musings...

I'd like to think as I age I've grown wiser, but recent actions have me reevaluating that hope. You see, I've spent the last few months playing a game I'd hoped I'd outgrow.

In Kindergarten it looked like this: Susie has more chocolate.

In High School: Susie has more chocolate and she can eat it without gaining a pound.

As a new mommy: Susie's baby is beautiful, chocolate is still kind to her, and she left the hospital in her regular jeans.

As an over-thirty woman: Susie's kids are high achievers, chocolate still doesn't expand her hips, and she's published a book that's selling off the shelves with an Amazon rank so low it's hard to see.

Okay, everything in me says to get a new friend and stop thinking about Susie and her chocolate. But the reality is "Susies" are everywhere. And I keep comparing myself to them and coming up way short.

This comparison game has successfully siphoned my joy. But short of turning off the computer, phone, and never opening my eyes again, I can't ever completely escape this game. I live in two worlds (mommyhood and writing) where there are no stars for good behavior, nothing I can study to earn an A, and a plethora of scales from which to be measured...

The bathroom one
Mommy meetings
Christmas letters
Amazon ranks and more review sites than my mind can grasp
Sales ranks which weigh heavily into future contracts

And that's just the short list.

Here's the rub... Joy and contentment are my choice. I can either let those scales define me or choose what my heavenly Father says. One leaves me depressed and the other holds the promise of peace. Seems like an easy choice.

But it isn't.

The scales sometimes tip in my favor and that feels too good.

God's view sometimes seems passionless, like I'm just one of the many He says nice things about.

Here's where I have to cling to the Truth and put all my proverbial eggs in one basket. God's.

Either what He says is true and personal to me. Or it isn’t.

Either God knows what He’s talking about when He calls me His beloved child. Or He doesn’t.

Either God’s perfect and passionate view of me is correct. Or it isn’t.

Simple choice.

Not easy.

But like Pascal’s wager, “the wise choice is to live as thought God does exist (and His love for us is true). If we’re right, we gain everything and lose nothing.”

The wise choice will always be to listen to the Voice of Truth. He knows us best and loves us most.

So maybe the old saying was wrong… Maybe, just maybe, you can teach an old dog new tricks. ;-)

There is hope for me yet. And a birthday to celebrate because once again I have been reminded to choose wisely...

I choose God.