I almost always feel inadequate.
Considering I am a perfectionist whose father constantly made sure I knew that nothing I did was good enough, is it any wonder?
My mother didn’t like to cook and really didn’t know how, so she of course never taught me to cook. I taught myself, so I feel inadequate. I never saw my parents try to garden, so I have learned a little (very little) over time. When I kill plants several times a season and have to buy and plant more, I feel inadequate. I was raised with no religion, so I even feel inadequate when I pray. I was never around kids, so having a baby really made me feel inadequate!
My mom was raised in another country, so she was not able to teach me how to be a “Southern” woman. I have had some great role models to help me learn those lessons. I have been diligent lately to tell my good friends how much they have helped to “raise” me and teach me these things. I have shared with them how much it has meant to me.
On Friday I went to the funeral of one of the great ladies of our church, someone that on reflection, I realized helped to raise and teach me so much. Unfortunately, I never got to tell her in those exact words, even though I think she knew.
Mama Harris, as we called her in our house, also happened to be the mom of one of my good friends who we lost way too early. Between the two of them, they set me on a course that changed my life.
After I began dating my now husband Tim, he took me to the Methodist church he grew up in. I attended church there for 13 years before I decided to actually join and be baptized. When I did finally join, several of my church friends were astonished that I had not been a member for all of those years. One of them told me that now that I was a full fledged member, I needed to join her circle and become a member of United Methodist Women (UMW). I am not much of a joiner or a committee type person. We artsy types tend to “vant to be alone.” But I went.
There I would make some life long friends, even though our circle has long ago disbanded and very few of us are still UMW members.
UMW at that time was mostly the older women, holding lots of meetings and bake sales, etc. Our little group met once a month and was mostly a support for all of us with kids the same age and similar lives that we could share as we took the time to “get away from it all” for that one hour a month. Most of the women who were really involved at the top level of the organization and part of the district and conference organization were a couple of generations older than we were.
After several years of being in our circle and doing the very minimum to stay active and involved, the year came up when all of the older women had either been president or were the type who just had no desire to be president.
Mama Harris was on the nominating committee and one day, out of the blue, she called me. Now I would have done anything for Mama Harris, but when she asked if I would be willing to be nominated to be president of not my circle, but the whole UMW church wide, I knew that I was going to have to tell her no and it pained me.
But I wasn’t raised in the church, not just that church, I wasn’t raised in any church! I couldn’t lead a prayer at family dinner much less in front of 200 woman. I wasn’t the casserole, committee member, southern belle type that they needed and anyway, I was two generations too young to be the president.
All I could managed to say was “Let me pray on it.” And I did. She gave me a week to think about it. In that week I had a long heart to heart with my husband, God and Mama Harris’ daughter and my friend, Nancy.
Nancy was definitely a “tell it like it is” kind of chick. She had already led me through the process of learning about circles and UMW to begin with, and she had helped me to find my voice in many important ways. She was brutally honest when she told me I was by no means the first choice for this job. After all of the usual, older members had been asked, the nominating committee had decided, with some argument, to try a “younger” member out of desperation. They made a short list of the next generation who might be acceptable. My name was not on that list.
Each of the young members declined for varying reasons and the committee was back to the drawing board. That is when my name came up. I like to think that Mama Harris thought I was capable and the rest of the committee just didn’t really know me!
Nancy reminded me of the times we had all lamented in circle about how the older women didn’t trust us or think us able to handle any positions of power. We discussed how the UMW would never grow until the baton was passed to us so we could bring the group into the modern world. Here we were with a chance to finally do these things and everyone was saying no. So with some bolstering of my ego and a lot of sweet talking I was guilted into, I mean convinced to call Mama Harris and accept the nomination.
I remember Mama Harris telling me that if I would promise to serve one year of the two year term, then I could decide not to serve the second and that would give them time to convince someone else. But since I am a perfectionist and I take commitments very seriously, I told her that if the term was two years, I would do it for two years. And I did. She also promised to support me and man, did she ever! Even when I knew I was doing something way out of the box, she put on her beautiful smile and persuaded others to go along with my hair brained plans.
Being president of UMW for two years changed me, not in the ways you might think, but in ways I could have never imagined. I don’t know that I would have gone back to college had I not been given the opportunity to serve in that capacity. (I know I would never have gone to school if Nancy hadn’t told me to quit “hiding my light under a bushel!”)
Listening to the minister at Mama Harris’ funeral made me realize how much she had helped to raise me. It reminded me of all of the women who have handed their “secret recipes” to me in order to help me grow and learn. The friends who have shown me how to arrange flowers and decorate, helped me raise my son and have loved me when I needed it.
I still feel inadequate, I started at this much later than most. I also have my stubborn, creative streak that makes me go against the norm a lot of the time. I mostly feel inadequate when I think of the trust put in me, the love poured on me and the grace shown to me in my life. To have such wonderful women, both here on earth and up in heaven, watching out for me is overwhelming. Nothing I can do will ever make me feel adequate enough to deserve all of that. I may feel inadequate, but mostly I feel grateful.
