On being embarrassed and praise

I was adorable when I was a child.  No really, I was.  Everyone used to say so.  When I was small, I used to do things like dance with my big brother, "smoke" a pipe, have a collection of dolls that I treated like babies, and so on. I remember playing horses by myself, with friends, and even at dear Mrs. Crabtree's.  I remember starting up many different groups--bands, drama clubs, and so on.  Do I remember these things fondly?  Nope.  I remember them with a pang of embarrassment.

I'm not sure when I started equating being creative or different with being embarrassing.  I'm sure it really doesn't matter.  The thing is, I know that I did, and the doing so resulted in creativity being stifled.  I'm sure that some things probably were stupid, but some things, according to others, weren't.  I just felt that being found out was embarrassing.

In Spanish, tenía vergüenza means "she was embarrassed".  It also means "she was ashamed".  For most people, these are two specific meanings.  Not for me.  For being, embarrassment was shame.  Not sure why, really, it just was.  And so someone "oohing and ahhing" over something I did resulted not just in embarrassment but also in shame.  Again, not sure why.

I know that there are some things that I've accomplished in my life that I should look on with pride.  As an adult, I learned to do so.  But as a child, no matter what it was, it was always embarrassing more than something to be proud of.

And I also remember penalizing others who tried to help me see pride--or maybe joy--in doing something.  My mom was the most penalized, and I wish to God that I could see her before me today so I could apologize.  I was in the 8th grade, and I was always a good writer.  I wrote an essay on my family, and I hid it in the linen closet (don't know why--maybe subconsciously I wanted her to find it).  She eventually found it and read it.  I don't remember exactly what it said, but I remember her complimenting me on it.  Tears in her eyes, she told me how much she liked what I wrote about our family.  I then said, to my shame, that it wasn't real.  It was just an assignment.  Mama, I hope you realize that of course it was real.  I just didn't know how to take praise.  I know you can hear me, so I'm telling you (and not for the first time) that I meant every word.

I think that my problem with praise was that I had somehow come to think that God did not want us to accept praise.  Praise belonged to him and him alone.  If we accepted it, we denied the God that created us (and therefore created the talent within us).  I felt that way for years--to the point that if someone came backstage to congratulate me on the job I did, I would not thank him--I would say "It's not me, it's God," and walk away.

After many years of this, someone had a heart-to-heart with me.  "Yes, God gave you the skill.  That's true.  But God did not just make you ready to go.  It took months and months of work, years of lessons, hours of practice.  Yes, God is responsible for your success--but so are you.

Those words have changed my life.  They've helped me go past the feeling of being ashamed, being embarrassed.  They've allowed me to understand that I will not displease God by using my gifts--and accepting the praise that others give.  And although I still walk away before the praise can come, if it does manage to find me, I've learned to smile and say thank you.

Friends, there are those of you who sing like angels.  There are those of you who write like Hemingway.  There are those of you that dance like Baryshnikov.  Be joyful in your gifts.  I appreciate you.  You are special, and you are loved.