Same Kind of Different

Dad didn't go anywhere without his cowboy hat and his boots.  These two items of clothing were distinctly my dad.  He grew up on a cotton farm in West Texas and earned his status as a true cowboy by riding the range, raising cattle and picking cotton in the sweltering Texas heat.  L.J. Davidson, my grandfather, was an amputee and farmed their cotton with one arm, so my daddy grew up working right alongside.  There wasn't any room for whining, you just pulled up your bootstraps and did what needed to be done. Pearl snap shirts were the norm, not a fashion statement, and I don't think dad ever wore a rhinestone a day in his life.  He would talk about how many people sporting the boots and hat didn't know the back end of a horse from the front, basically that there weren't very many authentic cowboys left.  He was right, more people sporting the signature western attire know the turn of the dance floor of the local honky-tonk better than they know how to saddle a horse or drive cattle.

There was something that spoke "true grit" about the fact that dad wore that hat and boots because he earned it by the sweat of his brow.  I've spoken before about viewing him as my own personal version of John Wayne, he was my hero, the man that would stand up for you and for what he believed.  He had a softer side, the side that held his little granddaughter's hand and took her for walks.  The hand that patted his left hand shirt pocket to make sure he had his little New Testament and his pen.  The man whose tears would flow when he spoke of his love of his family.  This just raised him further into hero status to me, he was better than Superman, he was authentic.  

I guess that is why there was never a reason for me to fill his cowboy boots, so to speak, because I didn't earn them.  I tried my hand at the western life by joining Future Farmers of America in high school and I learned quickly that it was a mold that didn't fit.  However, the one lesson I would like to take from my dad is how to be truly authentic.  When I write these memories, this blog, I write what I feel.  I try very hard not to mask any pain, any mistakes I have made, take away the pretty and bring light to the ugly parts, because I hope it helps one of you.  Even more, I aim to show my most authentic self, that is what my daddy would want from me.

But isn't that exactly what our world today teaches against?  Everything we are exposed to reiterates that we need porcelain veneers, luxury cars and the biggest house our income will allow.  If we can nip, tuck, expand and contract our bodies any more we could probably be sold in a store near you in the toy section, plastic dolls might have more real parts then we do.  How do we maintain our faith in a world like this?  How can anyone believe what we say when we are speaking through these pretty masks made of what the world tells us we should be?  

I didn't do a lot of Bible research for this post, but I literally opened up my Bible app, and this was the verse for the day:

Romans 12:1-3 NIV

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you.

Thanks, dad, I think you might have nudged God to send me this one!  God is very clear when He says, "do not conform to the pattern of this world."  See, no amount of money, no amount of rhinestones, no label made by a top fashion designer covers our sin.  No charity work, no large monetary donation, no earthly sacrifice will get us a ride on angel's wings.  God called us to be different, to be so different that we are called foreigners, yet we strive to have what someone else has, we jump at the next shiny new thing.  How then will the unbeliever see the difference in us?

We forget that in God's eyes we wear splendor in our souls, our beauty is in our authenticity, our value is only in our love for our God.  In 1 Peter 2:9-12 NIV we are told, "But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles, to abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us."

God calls us to be our authentic selves.  I, Stephanie Colleen Davidson-Rush, live in a small house that may have toys scattered about on any given day, I drive a used car, and my little house has about twelve renovations either currently in progress or needing to be started.  My bank account wouldn't buy a small country, but it pays my bills.  God gifted me with the talent to paint and a heart too sensitive and sometimes easily injured.  My most treasured possessions in this life are my dear husband, my sweet babies, my family and my friends of whom for each one I would give my life.  I sin every day, I am forgiven every day by a grace immeasurable in my tiny brain, I serve a God bigger than anything and my prayer tonight is one day I hold each one of your hands in Heaven.  I hope I have a chance to see the real you, your true self, love the ugly and the pretty, give a hug in a hard time and celebrate a good time.  This is me, the real me, no mask, just the same kind of different.