Last night, I went to the grocery story with Katy to pick up some food (as much as you can fit in an RV fridge). While we were picking up the necessities, we noticed a peculiar man wearing a hoodie (head covered) and a bandana covering his face like a bank robber in an old western. We both felt a bit uncomfortable with the situation, and decided to check out as quickly as possible as not to get caught in any crossfire. Nothing happened, but it got me thinking. I don’t know why that guy dressed so differently, but I bet he felt judged for going out in public like that. That’s how I feel about this blog; like I just dressed up in costume to go to the grocery store. Ever since I posted the first piece, I have been both excited and anxious. Excited, because I have a lot to say and the idea of people being willing to give it a read is cool. Anxious, because I am completely aware that I have not lived a perfect life. It is hard not to worry about the people who will inevitably read one of my posts and say, Dusty Miller? The Dusty Miller who made four teachers cry (at least the public ones we could count) in his formal education? The Dusty Miller who wasn’t exactly happy, nice or respectful in school? What’s up with Dusty Miller writing some blog that even remotely deals with how awesome God is? Does he even go to church? I’ve never really known him to stand for much more than making someone laugh or getting his point across. He is arrogant. Who does he think he is?
Okay, enough third person. This blog will be worthless without my vulnerability, open mindedness and reiteration of the fact that I am completely aware of many of my shortcomings, and so are you. What scares me the most is the idea of public accountability in a way that I’ve never had. I grew up going to church (usually against my will), and I have been hammered with lessons on accountability, iron sharpens iron, etc. Fact is, I’ve never had accountability like I was taught in church. I’ve not had too many lasting relationships with “Christian” guys. I’ve got some great friends, a few of whom challenge me to be better than I was the day before, but I have always felt like a fish out of water when it comes to accountability with people who attend church regularly. Last night I came to a realization, one that I’ve come to many times in the past, but never acted upon in any meaningful manner; I am scared to death of opening up and exposing myself to the judgment that will come when I try to show the real me to people who have a completely different idea of who I am. I am a hypocrite. Always have been, always will be. How can I live a more meaningful and open life without being a hypocrite? Answer to that question, I can’t. I can just keep telling people that I am aware of my personality flaws (most of them) and shortcomings, but I want to do better.
I have many regrets looking back on my years as a child and teenager. Many of these regrets come from situations where I went along with being the person that I thought people expected me to be. I have often spoken strong words when I shouldn’t have, and definitely stayed quiet at times when I should have been an advocate for another. It’s weird how much hindsight I have as a 25-year-old. I can only imagine the hindsight that comes with the next quarter-century. Just last month, I was talking to my granddad, and he started telling me about how close to 80 he is, and how it seems like just yesterday that he was standing in my shoes. He emphasized the importance of doing the right things today, because you “won’t be this young forever.” This conversation really made me think about the person I am, and how quickly life will pass us all by. One day we’re fighting to sit with the “cool” kids in the cafeteria, and the next we’re fighting to keep whatever bit of youth there is left in our tank. What really matters?
I relate.