How I Got Over Being A Dud and Learned My Gifts

Someone posed a question to me recently asking what adults (other than my parents) had a great influence on me in my formative years?

So this week I have been reminiscing about such people.

This post is a rambling of my thoughts today.

Thanks for bearing with me.

___________________________________________________________

I grew up in a small but very talented community.

My church and school friends were all incredibly gifted in music, athletics, speech, or academics.

I always felt like a dud.

Seriously.

I got okay grades but not great.

I took 11 years of piano lessons, but I can barely play out of a hymn book.

I was horrible at any and all sports, especially the popular ones for girls in my school: basketball, soccer, and volleyball.

I remember physically feeling ill when we were had to “play” these games in PE because I was really that uncoordinated, and it embarrassed me to participate.

I was the only girl who tried out for cheer-leading in 10th grade and didn’t make it.

I didn’t go around feeling sorry for myself; understandably, I did feel like the odd man out a lot of the time.

But I loved to work with fabrics, cook, and help my mom entertain guests in our home.

Thankfully, I was in a  high school that had an excellent home economics program.

And that’s how I learned my gifts.

 I had a teacher who invested time in me.

She taught me how to make a basic roux.

And the muffin mix method.

And how to iron a shirt properly.

______________________________

And every time I am standing at the board with iron in hand, I am forever grateful for her.

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10 thoughts on “How I Got Over Being A Dud and Learned My Gifts

  1. Oh, Rene! This post reminds me of another reason we are kindred spirits! I’ll have to share my story with you sometime! =)

  2. I’m so glad that your school still has home economics–it’s one of the very few. Your skills will be of great value to you and others throughout your life.

  3. My mother taught me to iron when I was 11 yrs. old. One thing I had to iron every week was my dad’s white shirts. He was very particular about how his clothes looked, so I had to be good at it. I wonder if I do it properly. Just wondering . . .

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