As I walked down the half-tarmac, half-murram road, so much was going through my mind. I was carrying my little sister, holding her firmly and carefully with both arms. Her head leaned over my shoulder, giving her the golden chance to either make a pillow out of it, or use it as a support system as she observed her surroundings. Babies are curious, I can imagine the many things they have to see before they become familiar to them and stop observing as much.
What kept me anxious was what I imagined people thought about me. I usually look like a fifteen-year-old, yet I am on the journey of wrapping up two decades on earth. I feared people thought I was a mother, although I knew it shouldn’t have mattered. What if I got lost? I had to inquire about directions as I went down the road. “Two hundred metres to your right after finding the road to the mission hospital.” These were the clear directions. “And when you get to the clinic, kindly inquire where to start. Tell them you are new.” Of course, I was keen on this one. The day before, and on many other occasions, I had not been, and I had paid the price. This does not mean that ,from that moment henceforth, I would suddenly become excellent at following instructions. However, I pray for growth and maturity.
Eventually, I joined the line of mothers holding their young ones for vaccination. Some babies were weeks old; others were years old. The oldest, just like my dear sister, was one and a half years old. My sister, to my surprise, was super excited—babbling and singing in a language only she and God would understand. The procedure involved handing over the hospital book to the doctor, giving her the baby’s name and your location, and then proceeding to the injection sector.
My worry was still about the other mothers seeing me as a very young mother. I had to tell the woman beside me that the baby was my sister. I said the same thing to the doctor. My sister never cried when she was given the injection. She just kept still. This was funny. She simply stared at the others when they broke down. I felt safe after informing the doctor and some of the mothers that the baby was not mine. But what could have changed had I presented myself as a mother? Why did I worry so much about an assumption that was not even theirs?
Even when coming back home, I sat next to a young lady dressed in a high-school uniform. She was travelling back to school for the last term of the year. I could imagine what was going through her head: “This mother is too young. Perhaps she is a high-school dropout.” How belittling yet I was at the university, studying one of the most difficult courses in the country. Sometimes I wish this would go before me, but I swallow my pride. Wanting my achievements to speak for me before anyone could misunderstand me was wrong. I can’t deny that people’s opinions mattered. Yet, they probably were not thinking about me at all.
That small incident made me reflect on my personality. On the OCEAN model, I associate mostly with the introverted and agreeable ends. I have often wondered whether these traits explain my tendency to be quite submissive in place of assertiveness, and overly concerned with what others think. I have found myself pouring so much into other people—helping them grow, being kind to them, worrying about their feelings while somehow forgetting myself and at times, even those closest to me. I’m certain I am not the only one with this trait.
Sometimes we question why God gave us specific personalities because we do not always see their value. Leadership can seem to reward assertiveness. Creativity can seem to favour openness. Networking can seem easier for extroverts. These qualities may make certain paths easier, especially when one is thinking about success in the world.
However, God has made everything beautiful in its time. Was Moses extroverted? Was John? Was Moses disagreeable? Of course, David appears open and expressive. Jeremiah, on the other hand, is remembered for his deep sensitivity and lament. Yet God worked through all of them. And it is all okay.
The goal is certainly not to become extroverted because extroversion seems advantageous, or disagreeable because assertiveness appears necessary for leadership. The goal is to recognise our tendencies, appreciate the strengths they bring, and grow where they limit us.
I should accept who I am, love myself, and strive to improve where I can. Personality is not determined solely by genetics; our environment and experiences have their place in shaping us too. And maybe that is what the road was teaching me all along: not everything has to be completely tarmac to lead somewhere.
~ Rinasco
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