Jenni Clayville

That’s what Chance said to me today.

These are the conversations my four-year-old son and I have when we are in the car.  I’m driving him to school and he says to me:

“Mommy… I wish I were you!”

This caught me off guard.  Who in the world would wish THIS on themselves?

I’m a mess.
I’m wrecked.
I’m a disaster.

But as I let this question soak in a bit, I realized I, too, wished this as a child.  I didn’t necessarily wish I was my mother… but I wished I was anyone BUT myself.  I wished I were YOU.  I wanted everyone else’s life because mine hurt too much.

Now, at 31, I can honestly say that most days, I’m glad I’m me.  I’m FINALLY starting to see why I am who I am… dysfunction and all.

I AM a mess, but what work is there in perfection?
I WAS wrecked, but now I’m restored.
I’m a BEAUTIFUL disaster.

My thoughts came back to my son who was sitting in the backseat.  My sweet 4-year-old who could already process wanting to be anyone but himself.  My heart broke for him.  I want more than anything for my children to be secure in who they are… in who God made them to be.

So, I asked Chance:

“Why do you say that?  Why do you wish you were me?”

And he replied:

“Because then I wouldn’t have to go to school.”

Oh.  Well… all that internal repertoire for nothing then. HA!

Ever wish you were someone else?