Ordinary Greatness

I wasn’t born for greatness.

Is that a weird thing to say?
And the truth is, when I say that… I truly don’t believe that I am saying something negative about myself. In fact, I actually think that there is no value statement within those words. And I believe them to be absolutely true.

Does that mean that I don’t think I have ever done great things? Absolutely not. Does that mean that I don’t believe that I have more great things yet to accomplish? Also no.  Does that mean that I think that I am unimportant in every way? Again - not by a long shot.

I have never dreamed of seeing my name in lights, of watching myself on a movie screen, or standing atop an Olympic podium. There has never been a piece of me hoping for those 15 minutes of fame, much less years of it. I neither want nor need to  be front and center, center stage, in the spotlight, or otherwise overly perceived. 

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t strive to achieve, or that I don’t aspire to make a difference in the world. What it does mean is that I don’t care if my name is associated with the changes that I make. In fact, to take it a step further, I’d rather that the joy, love, and positivity that I hope become my legacy speak for themselves and do not need a name attached to them. Or at least… not mine. 

I am quite content just being… me. That doesn’t mean small, insignificant, or weak. It means that I am allowing myself the freedom to stay who I truly, honestly am at my core. In whatever way that plays out. And not only am I not upset by this, I actually find strength in it. I find power in the supporting role. I find joy in helping others see and reach their full potential.

In high school, I preferred my role as stage crew, behind the scenes of our school’s theatrical productions, to my time on stage. I found more joy in making sure that the stars of the show, the truly talented singers and actors of the student body, had what they needed to shine. Whether that was moving props, prepping costumes, or running mics from one side of the stage to the other so that the next scene could begin on time, I felt a great sense of accomplishment knowing that my invisible role made the visible happen. 

And those years that I was on stage rather than behind it? I dreaded curtain call, couldn’t wait to exit stage left. Even as a teenager, I knew that the spotlight was not where I truly shined.

So, no, I do not believe that I was born for greatness. I do not think that I was destined to transcend the ordinary, break world records, or lead some sort of revolution. But don’t get it twisted - that doesn’t mean that I think that being a supporting actor, a background player, means that I am playing it small. 

What I do believe is that I am here to make the ordinary greater. That I am destined for contentment - both mine and that of those around me. That I am here to help others find their greatness, no matter how big or small it might be for them.