A different view through introspection

Many times I have wondered what my role is here on Earth. Why was I put here? What is my purpose? What am I doing to make this world a better place? I have also wondered about the odd collection of talents and weaknesses I see in myself. The cards in the game of life given to me that I have tried to make sense of over the past 50 years.

I have a good sense of humor but a lousy memory. I have good people skills but can’t remember names. I am a relational person but an introvert. I have good communication skills but hate talking in front of large groups. I like to spend time by myself but frequently start conversations with people I don’t know. I love to travel but have a lousy sense of direction. My memory does not allow me to learn a second language. My body is beginning to break down. My left index finger had to be amputated because of an accident. I had my knees replaced last summer.

Why did God put such a weird mixture of talents, physical weaknesses and ineptness in one person? What is his purpose? Often I have thought how much stronger I would be if I did not have a bad memory or if I had a better sense of direction, a stronger body or better public speaking skills.

The map in your head: As time passes, though, I have pretty much given up improving my memory. I still get embarrassed when I can’t remember someone’s name I should know, and I’m not too proud to have my wife navigate for me when we are traveling. When my oldest daughter was 7 years old, she said, “Daddy, the map in your head does not work as good as the map in Mommy’s head, does it?”

How can these parts of me, the things I have wished I could change, actually be positives?
By profession I am a school social worker. Throughout the course of my career I have listened to much pain, suffering, hurt and grief from many of my students and their families as they struggle with life issues. Because of my poor memory, I have come to realize I will not have to carry their pain and suffering long. I may remember general things about what they are going through, but without writing notes, the details quickly fade. Their names are gone not long after. My humor, though, seems always to return. Somehow, timely and appropriate humor seems to have a way of helping people cope.

I see many Hispanic students at the high school where I work. I use a translator to communicate with parents when needed. My inability to learn Spanish has probably helped some of the families accept me sooner; especially the ones who struggle to speak English. They see me as human. I, like them, struggle in another language. Together, with the aid of an interpreter, we laugh about our language struggles.

Sometimes I am asked to do home visits and provide transportation for students and parents. I carry a map in my car and use it. However, this does not cover completely for my poor navigational skills. Frequently I will take a wrong turn. When providing transportation for a parent or a student, a wrong turn has been the icebreaker in forming a relationship. I couldn’t build a trusting relationship with a person I saw as perfect. There is something about the human element, the lack of perfection, that allows conversation to get past surface topics.

Fingerman: One of my former students could never remember my name. Because of my missing finger, he called me Fingerman. For the two years he was at our school he never called me by my name, only Fingerman. One summer I saw him at a Quiktrip but did not recognize him. Since I was meeting someone to carpool with, I was concerned about leaving my pickup parked there, especially with a kid that seemed to have nothing to do. “Hey, Fingerman, what’s up?” he greeted me as I stepped out of my pickup. Immediately I knew who he was, and I knew my truck was safe parked there.

During enrollment I met a mother who was using a walker. I found out she had her knee replaced about a month later than I had both of mine replaced. I do not remember her name, although she introduced herself to me, but I know who she is. I see her in the hall from time to time, and we compare notes on how we are doing. It’s amazing what creates bonds between people.

Over a period of time I have come to see that my deficits are actually strengths. Although it has taken me a while to realize it, I now know that who I am as a person, all of me, serves in my career as a school social worker. I guess God did create me in his own image, perfect in my imperfections.

How many times do we sell ourselves short because we spend time focusing on our imperfections instead of accepting ourselves for who we are? Maybe we should trust that there is a purpose for our flaws. After all, there are worse things in life than being called Fingerman.

Oris Schrag is a member of Faith Mennonite Church, Newton, Kan.