Recently, I had a a day when it seemed like everywhere I looked, I was confronted by the reality of just how incapable I am of “measuring up”.  Searching for curriculum, I read about the author of one text who has six children, has written 11 textbooks, and recently sold her publishing company to be a freelance author and speaker.  Looking at my gardens, sparse and not-so-thoroughly weeded, I thought about friends and relatives who manage to grow flowers and vegetables prolifically year after year.  I learned about a high school acquaintance who had successfully gotten fit, as I struggle to stop gaining weight.  And there were reminders in the clutter of our home and the sometimes unruly nature of our kids and even in the fact that I am only a homeschooling mom, that there is virtually nothing that I do well.

These days aren’t really that unusual (surprising, right?), but they always manage to leave me discouraged, still.  I get frustrated with myself that I’m not more successful at the tangible things of life, but I also get frustrated with God for making me this way…and “this way” can mean so many different things, depending on the circumstances.  “This way” is how I get headaches almost every time I exercise.  “This way” is how foggy-brained I am, to the point of struggling to correct math, much less applying my brain to any creative pursuits.  “This way” is how my body overheats and makes it physically unwise to spend enough time in my gardens.  “This way” is the back pain that left me semi-debilitated for 3 months (but which seems better now, thank God).  “This way” is my generally talent-less nature that can’t sing or craft or organize or thrift or fix things with any amount of skill.

I mean, I get it.  Everybody has things that they don’t do well.  Most people just don’t seem to have as many things as I have, or at least, not things that are quite so obvious.  But as I thought about it, I was reminded of the parable of the talents…no kidding, right?  I’ve never really liked that parable…mostly because I identify so much with the one-talent servant who just hides his talent away, afraid of failure and loss.  That’s me to a tee, or at least, that’s what I’ve always thought.

I’ve always thought that because I wasn’t investing myself in endeavors that “everyone else” was doing that I was hiding my talents.  Not really recognizing any talents in myself, but assuming they must be there somewhere, I figured I wasn’t seeing a return on my investment because I was being unfaithful with what I had been given.  It never really occurred to me that, if I have different talents, the fruit would look different…and the master’s expectation of the one-talent servant wasn’t to bear the most fruit, but to just be faithful with what had been given.

So, my return-on-investment doesn’t – and can’t – look like it does for someone with different gifts.  And it often looks small, and maybe insignificant in comparison to others.  My investment looks like daily devotional times with my kids. It looks like an only semi-successful garden that will, nonetheless, provide some relief to our grocery budget.  It looks like listening, and remembering, and offering support and insight as my husband talks about his work.  It looks like being available to answer many dozens of questions from my kids every day.  It looks like taking the little kids to swim lessons on hot days when it is one of my least favorite things ever, and it looks like staying up late talking to my older kids.  And it’s shopping for shirts for my Mom’s birthday every year, because it’s what she always asks for, and letting my kids get puppies because it was something they really wanted and my selfish interests were the only reason not to, and making handmade birthday cards even though those creative juices stopped flowing long ago, it’s sending birthday cards to siblings, and in-laws, and nieces and nephews because I know I’m not great at maintaining connections otherwise.

None of it is really talent-based.  Little of it results in fruit that really looks “productive”.  But, there is fruit.  My kids talk to me.  My husband trusts me.  Teachers at children’s church ask about how our kids know the Bible so well.  And so many other little things…probably things that I won’t ever even know.  But God knows.  God knows what He gave me, and He sees how I use it.  The return on investment belongs to Him, and I just hope it has value to Him.