When I was a senior in high school, the yearbook devoted a two page spread to the five people who were in the top 1% of the class. They asked us our interests, favorite quotes, goals and desires. I thought I was being clever when I wrote as my goal, "To grow one more inch before I die."
True, at a whopping 5"1, I could probably stand to grow a little more, but it wasn't really that important to me. I was just fine with my height, and having written that at age 18, the end of puberty, I didn't really have much hope for more growth. For years after that, I've cringed every time I looked at that page. I feel the youthful stupidity and shallowness behind the words. Of all the things to accomplish in life, growing one more inch was my lofty goal. Aiya.
Now, literally decades later, I went to the doctor, and he did a standard weight-height check. My weight has plummeted over the last year -- I used to joke that giardea was the best weight loss strategy. I was wrong. It's sorrow. I'm not the type of person to eat to cope with loss; rather, I'll lie in bed, skip meals, and waste away. My grief made me lose about 15 pounds in the last six months. Interestingly enough, I now weigh close to what I did when I wrote that yearbook entry. This is going to sound very anorexic (don't worry, I love food, and after all the carbs on my travels, I've been gaining some of the weight back already), but I've been pretty happy to fit into all my old clothes and to be my college weight again. It was this strange perk of terrible loss.
However, I knew about the weight loss before I went to the doctor. The shocker for me was my height. The doc measured me at 5"2! I've grown an inch! It took me a while to realize that my devoted chiropractor is probably responsible. The doctor smiled indulgently at me as I clamored with surprise in the examination room. It made me want to go and change my driver's license immediately to reflect my new growth (wait, is height even on there?).
The fact of being one inch taller is still just as superficial as it was in 1994…but it's made me reflect. So many years ago I expressed this near-impossible thing as an all-important desire of my heart. And now it's mine. I have no idea if God did this on purpose or what's on His mind. But it felt like a little gift from life, an acknowledgement of my secret dreams, a little tribute to hope. If I can grow an impossible inch before I die, what else can happen in my life?
Now, to set my sights higher than five feet and two inches...
True, at a whopping 5"1, I could probably stand to grow a little more, but it wasn't really that important to me. I was just fine with my height, and having written that at age 18, the end of puberty, I didn't really have much hope for more growth. For years after that, I've cringed every time I looked at that page. I feel the youthful stupidity and shallowness behind the words. Of all the things to accomplish in life, growing one more inch was my lofty goal. Aiya.
Now, literally decades later, I went to the doctor, and he did a standard weight-height check. My weight has plummeted over the last year -- I used to joke that giardea was the best weight loss strategy. I was wrong. It's sorrow. I'm not the type of person to eat to cope with loss; rather, I'll lie in bed, skip meals, and waste away. My grief made me lose about 15 pounds in the last six months. Interestingly enough, I now weigh close to what I did when I wrote that yearbook entry. This is going to sound very anorexic (don't worry, I love food, and after all the carbs on my travels, I've been gaining some of the weight back already), but I've been pretty happy to fit into all my old clothes and to be my college weight again. It was this strange perk of terrible loss.
However, I knew about the weight loss before I went to the doctor. The shocker for me was my height. The doc measured me at 5"2! I've grown an inch! It took me a while to realize that my devoted chiropractor is probably responsible. The doctor smiled indulgently at me as I clamored with surprise in the examination room. It made me want to go and change my driver's license immediately to reflect my new growth (wait, is height even on there?).
The fact of being one inch taller is still just as superficial as it was in 1994…but it's made me reflect. So many years ago I expressed this near-impossible thing as an all-important desire of my heart. And now it's mine. I have no idea if God did this on purpose or what's on His mind. But it felt like a little gift from life, an acknowledgement of my secret dreams, a little tribute to hope. If I can grow an impossible inch before I die, what else can happen in my life?
Now, to set my sights higher than five feet and two inches...
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