Wee Me

I went to my doctor for my usual check up. The nurse wrote in her chart that I'm 5 foot. I told her in no uncertain words that I'm 5 foot and one inch. ( I must've slumped when she measured me.) She shrugged, smiled condescendingly and left the chart un-amended.

I'm middle-aged; you'd think I'd have come to terms with my very tiny stature. But it seems to bother me now more than ever.

When I was a young thing, people use to call it cute, my being so little. ('Course I only weighed a hundred pounds then.)
Tall guys used to lean their elbows on my shoulder and chuckle.
My mom used to pat me on the head and say, "You're just like your Aunt June."
Grandmommy said, "good things come in little packages."

The condescension didn't bother me so much then.

But now that I'm old and not nearly so cute (or slender) I would like some tradeoff,
some compensation.

I've been married for thirty years. . . successfully, happily
Raised three great kids
Efficiently run a home
Operated a home business
Studied, meditated, discussed, taught, applied scripture
Been a friend
Served in multiple capacities in church
Taught in public, private schools and colleges
Thought, examined, pried, delved, pondered, discussed, wondered
Written devotionals, articles, books

That ought to be worth something, surely.

My husband, God bless him, is of average height, which is to say, that he's nearly a foot taller than I am. He puts things away in the kitchen. Short people, you know where I'm going with this.
One day I caught him in the act. I said, "now, would you just hunker down to my level, shorten your arms about six inches, and then try to reach that glass that you just pushed way to the back of the cupboard."

Later that day I had to use the step stool three times to retrieve seldom-used items for a special dinner. "Why, oh why, did God make me so little?" I lamented to my husband.
He came over and hugged me and said, "He made you little just for me."
And that, of course, was God speaking through my husband.
"I made you little just for me."

Zaccheus was a wee little man. But because of his short stature he climbed a sycamore tree. Because he was in the sycamore tree the Lord noticed him. . . noticed his unstoppable desire to see Jesus. His shortness gave him a special opportunity to spend time with the Messiah.
Jesus must have known that this man hungered to hear truth, longed to speak with Him.
Small in stature, that Zaccheus
but mighty in his quest to know God.

Whatever people see when they look at me. am I:
short with pettiness, jealousy, selfishness, unkindness?
Or am I
Tall with a heart that rejoices over God's grace and His purposes for me in this world?
Oh, I want to be this kind of tall.
God, please make me Tall.