If you know me, you know that I am...awkward around people. Sure, sometimes I can be social, but those are the exceptions to the rule. When left to my most basic personality, I am awkward.
Like today when I went to the eye doctor. Let it be known that, from the safety of my home, I will say that the eye doctor is my favorite health service. For some reason I never remember that getting my eyes checked is really a specialized form of mental torture.
A new guy took me in for pre-consultation tests. I assume he was new because he said, "I don't normally do this, but since you're waiting..." Not a good sign. I was chatty and friendly until the table rotated and a machine was in front of me. I knew it wasn't the machine of death, but as I put my chin in the indentation and leaned my forehead against the prongs, my heart rate spiked and sweat seeped from probably every pore.
I counted every second of freedom until the machine of death. You know the one. The one that shoots puffs of air into your eyeball. I don't know why, but I am deathly afraid of that machine. Which is unfortunate, because it measures eye pressure, which only increases when you're afraid. So the numbers were high, which meant he had to do it again because they were abnormal! Also he was new and slightly incompetent, so altogether I had to suffer through seven eye puffs. That doesn't even account for the part that really drives me batty, which is staring into the light, waiting, and trying to keep my eyes wide, but unable to stop myself from blinking erratically, which only makes him unable to do the test, which makes me wait longer, which makes me MORE CRAZY. Times seven.
That might not sound traumatizing, but my facade of cheer was completely gone. He even asked, incredulously, "Are you nervous or something?" to which I stuttered, "I just...don't...I really hate this! Something must have happened when I was a kid! Doesn't everyone react this way? Are you saying I'm stupid for being so afraid of an eye puff!?!"
And then that fear generalized to all the machines which necessitate putting your face against them, which I'll just let you know, is all of them.
He was really nice about it all. And that is when I saw my social awkwardness. He was totally chill and friendly, telling me stories about rude ladies demanding glasses. And I just sat there, nodding, and glancing away until he shut up and left. Then I pulled out my book and made sure everyone knew I was busy so they wouldn't talk to me. Another patient walked by and I glanced up to smile (so she knew I was friendly) but then completely negated that by staring at everything in the room but her.
I don't make eye contact. I don't engage strangers in conversation. I much prefer to be left alone.
"So why are you going to be a missionary?" you might ask.
I would respond by saying, "I don't know! That's what I kept telling God when He told me to do it, but He didn't seem to think it was a big deal."
And then I read this post of Donald Miller's about the biblical characteristics of a disciple, and I felt so much better. God doesn't want perfect people. He wants to use the weak to shame the strong and the fools to shame the wise. And y'all, I'm terrified of eye puffs and I can't interact with strangers like a social human being. Guess that's why God has me on His list.
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