Wonder Woman Vs. Weary Woman

At this moment, I am in bed at the ripe hour of nine o’ clock. My son is lying next to me as I’m holding a cool towel to his little, sweaty head. He has had a fever for five days. Poor little man.

While my husband is at work (thank you dear for bringing home the organic nitrate-free low sodium bacon!), I have been running a mini infirmary here in my home over the last two weeks. My three children have been politely taking turns being sick. Yes, now’s the time they are sharing just beautifully.

Despite my best efforts, viruses have been running rampant in our little blue house. (I am so thankful that we are dealing with some ordinary sicknesses here and not, say, Ebola — I tell myself, one needs to maintain some perspective of gratitude in the drudgery). My energy, however, is non-existent. As I sit here on my bed, surrounded by a mess of toys and other random items, I wonder, what has happened to my house? My kitchen? My sanity? My body is convinced it is midnight.

But the clock is dutifully honest. It is only nine o’ clock.

And then I notice it.

The blatant, oh-so-humbling irony.

On one side of me is a wheezing sick child, and on the other side of me, is my daughter’s Wonder Woman tiara she got a year ago in a Sonic Kid’s Meal. (She is forever trailing toys into the kitchen, the bathroom, our bedroom, an obscure closet — you know, where they don’t belong.)

I have to smile because my daughter loves this tiara. I’m not even sure she knows who Wonder Woman is, but when she puts this thing on, her whole attitude changes and she becomes indestructible. But then, who wouldn’t? If I had a magical lasso, a pair of powerful bracelets, a tiara that serves as a projectile, an invisible airplane … perhaps I’d strike a pose too and feel like I was “all that.”

If you ask me, I think it’s rather unfair and wasteful for one woman to have absolutely everything going for her. Does she also need a flawless body as she does her world-saving tricks and such? What about the millions (trillions?) of so-called normal women in this world who operate on a fraction of what she has?

But oh well. Who said life is fair?

So I am here to say, I am not Wonder Woman.  I’m pretty sure you already know this, as it’s obvious if you’ve read any of my posts  … but just in case you’re wondering, I never was, and from the looks of it, I will never be.

I am, instead, Weary Woman.

Weary to the bones, that is what I am at the moment. No magical lasso to pick up toys and socks from the floor. No cape to fly over to the pharmacy for a third time in a day. No stamina to last through sleep-deprived nights. No Amazonian athletic frame to keep looking “great” while doing all of this.

But it is okay.

The weeks have been long, but I am still breathing. I need more sleep, but I am still somewhat sane.

Absolutely, in a heartbeat, I’d settle for a fraction of Wonder Woman’s energy. A fraction would probably make me completely unrecognizable to my family. I’d wear that ridiculous headband if it gave me a boost. I’d attach that cape and fling it to the wind if it made me fly. I’d lasso away everything from the laundry, my sink of dishes, the bills, my aches and pains, to other world problems if I could. I’d wear Wonder Woman’s strong, flawless beauty if I could just wake up with it.

But tonight as I sit in bed, I am actually perfectly content being the Weary Woman that I am. Wonder Woman has a nifty outfit that I have to sometimes “borrow” for a few days …  sure, it hangs too loose in some parts and way too tight in others, but I will try to wear it for as long as I can. But in the end? I’m glad I don’t own this get-up, because it’ll never be me. In time, I’m sure I would end up finding it scratchy, un-breatheable, high maintenance (probably would need to be dry cleaned — imagine a superhero with a wrinkled costume?!), and the tiara would likely set off my migraines.

I am blessed because I don’t need an alter ego. I can just be me. And I don’t only have to rely on my superpowers to get through all the drudgery. No one expects me to save the world. Thank God.

Instead, I get to rely on One greater than me. I get to lean on His strength and watch Him work through me. I get to be amazed by His powers.

And I get to collapse on my mess of a bed, next to a sweet sick boy who may not think I’m Wonder Woman, but who nestles besides me nonetheless.

He doesn’t want Wonder Woman. He just wants me.

Just as it is with our Heavenly Father.

I have to remember, that when all of us strip down to our humanity, this is what we cry for, to be accepted for who we are. To be wanted even in our mess. To be loved in our failing strength. To trust in someone bigger than us.

I am thankful that we don’t have to be our own heroes.

I am thankful I get to slip on comfy pajamas tonight, eat some coconut ice cream, and the world will not fall to shambles while I am doing that.

Please listen to this wonderful song I Can Just be Me (click on song) by Laura Story before you go to bed tonight.