As I am

So I “found” this new song, and it has been stuck in my head, but in a good way, for several days now. It is sort of working its way down into my soul, and changing the way I think about some things. The song, which comes from the Iona community in Scotland, is succinct, so I’ll quote the whole thing:

Take, oh take me as I am/
summon out what I shall be/
set your seal upon my heart/
and live in me.

Take, oh take me as I am. I try so hard sometimes to be someone I’m not… to impress people, to live up to unreasonable expectations, or just to fulfill that subtle, elusive and ubiquitous pressure to “fit in.” I get to thinking that maybe what I am is not good enough. So I try to fix my flaws and heck, while I’m at it, why not just change into someone else entirely, someone who’s more intelligent or good-looking or capable of coping with this situation. Although there have been plenty of others, my most recent transgression is trying subconsciously to be someone who didn’t grow up in the Midwest of the United States, in my town, in my family. Sometimes I’d like to just let myself get swallowed up by the culture and language here, renounce that which makes me stick out. But really, I know that even if I live here (or anywhere else) forever, I will never morph into a European or an Asian or an African. I am me, Jess, with my own cultural and familial and genetic heritage and my own identity. And that is good. I was made to be this way, with my own personal constellation of neuroses and experiences and talents. I try to take this not as license to cultivate my innermost faults, but to love myself. And God, who made me good, takes me as I am. It’s a huge relief, actually. Quit this farce of trying to change myself into something I’m not and get down to the business of being my best self.

Summon out what I shall be. ‘Summon’ is one of my new favorite words. Not like come-to-court-subpoena summon or rubbing-the-lamp-yes-master summon, but the gentle invitation of a sculptor to her subject: I see you in there. Come on out into the light. Whether it’s a chainsaw and a tree stump or bare hands working the clay, the word ‘summon’ means to me that the raw material is already there. “What I shall be” is already a component of who I am—it needs a bit of glaze, maybe a nip here and a tuck there, some new running shoes, a few accessories: but it’s there, and it’s being invited to stand up and take the first tentative steps toward realizing its potential. My potential. Present and future me-ness, all wrapped up in this summons.

Set your seal upon my heart. Sometimes I just desperately need this reassurance that I am claimed, that I belong, that I am loved fiercely and deeply and forever.

And live in me. I have noticed that even at the times in the past when I have felt really lost or defeated, there is this little sproingy thing inside me that refuses to give up. It says, “oh, just give this place one more chance,” or “try it for another week!” The little sproingy thing keeps the loneliness at bay just long enough for me to find my footing… it lives, and loves, and sproings. “If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.” Sproing!