Let’s have a confessional today, shall we?
I’ll go first: I’m a conformist. No, not a communist. A c-o-n-f-o-r-m-i-s-t. I have an insatiable hunger for normalcy, for not rocking the boat, for all things to fit just so. I don’t think it is popular to be this way, which is ironic. I think it is more favorable to be revolutionary, out of the box, blazin’ your own trail! No, it is not the type of thing that gets you kudos even with your closest friends. But it is how I am.
My husband is not a conformist (or a communist). I learned this when planning our wedding. He told me that he wanted a “shwedding”: one part show, one part wedding. Something akin to the folks who danced to Chris Brown down the isle. (Please watch the video here, if you don’t know what I am referring to.) I put the kibosh on any such thing because I was afraid of how it would all turn out, what people would think. Oh, Catie, live a little!! I know!! (This is what I often yell at the me in my head). Recently, my husband wanted to take some of our savings and put it into investments. I wanted to turn it into gold bars and keep it under our mattress. Once, after a rousing exchange at work, my husband got a text from a co worker that said, “Have I ever told you that you’re my hero and you have balls of steal!” I have no such gilded body parts or gold under my bed.
If you know me, I am not a push over and I am not quiet but that doesn’t change the well-deep longing in my soul for all things to be at peace.
I want to be more like my husband, more willing to take risks. But I also think there is something about that pesky part of me that wants all the pieces to fit which resembles something on the other side of this life. I think that the coming together of all things, in perfection and harmony is the blessing that waits for us in Heaven. Yes, that’s what I want: perfection & harmony. And to me, being a risk taker feels like the mortal enemy of those two things.
I was listening to a favorite song of mine called Needle and Thread, by Sleeping at Last, and in light of my recent musings on this issue, I heard this last verse in a new way.
Maybe Hollywood was right
When the credits have rolled and the tears have dried
And the answers that we have been dying to find
Are all fit together and, somehow,
Made perfectly mine, mine, mine
Made perfectly mine.
I love it when a movie comes together in the end. When it all makes sense. Yes, when all the pieces fit.
So, I guess in this life, I will always be working on my fitness and working on my riskiness. Just like Fergie.