content to be little

I used to hate being short. Everything was just a little out of reach. Jeans from the store were always a little too long. Getting anything out of the kitchen cupboards always turned into an adventure of epic proportions that usually involved climbing, balancing, and then deliberating on how to get down again. If only I were a few inches taller, things would be so much easier. Eventually I grew (no pun intended) to accept my fate. I even revealed my height - a little under five foot - which I'd kept a secret (even from my best friend) for several years. I made jokes that I had hobbit blood in me (although people then found it amusing to ask if I'd inherited hairy hobbit feet as well).  But recently I've been struggling with another kind of contentment - something that is deeper than fussing about my height, body shape, or complexion...deep discontentment that became anger at God and those around me.  I was frustrated that my boyfriend was at college learning about the Bible while it was a struggle for me to read a chapter in the Word each day and frustrated that he could hang out with friends whenever he wanted, when I was alone most nights. I was frustrated that several of my friends were devoting their lives to ministry while I was working at a minimum-wage job 30 hours a week, feeling like I wasn't making much difference. I was frustrated that while my best friend's parents were content for her to remain at home, my family did not wish me to do so working outside the home as well. I was frustrated that God wasn't using me to do big things, that He was passing up all my potential and giving all the opportunities to others. This last week of May was one of the hardest weeks of my life because my boyfriend was interning at a Christian camp that I have gone to for the past 5 summers. Though I felt that God was not calling me to return as staff this year, the week that he was gone and I remained at home was not easy. I was angry at God for allowing him and not me to go. I was angry that I couldn't be there with him through the hard week and angry that other people were supporting and encouraging him in my place because I couldn't be there. I hated how I was constantly waiting for a text, a phone call, an update. I felt lost and dead inside.  When the week was almost halfway over, I finally spent a significant time in prayer. I admitted how wrong I had been and asked God to forgive me, to change my heart so that it would be pleasing to Him. I realized that perhaps God was not giving me big things to do for Him because I had not been faithful in the little tasks He had given me. I realized I needed to be content wherever and even with whomever God wanted me. The anger and frustration won't go away overnight, but I am slowly learning to be content. Even content to be little.