“That is a gutsy young woman.”
This
observation was repeated to me this morning, and for a moment I wanted to ask
who it was referring to. The context of
the conversation indicated that I was the young woman being described, but that
didn’t quite make sense. Me? Gutsy?
Not the word I would have used.
I
was talking to my friend Mary, who has adopted me into her family over the past
year. She brought me into her church
family, too, where I have recently begun to play the piano for worship. I accepted the job with much trepidation, for
I don’t consider myself much of a pianist—it’s been five years at least since I
had a piano lesson, and my practicing since then has been sporadic at
best. There was no one else, though, and
so I took on the work. And every week I
have sat at the front of the church, stumbling over a bad keyboard and trying
to make music. This, apparently, earns
me the title of “gutsy”.
Maybe
it’s my English major soul that makes me balk at this word. There must be a better adjective to describe
this situation, I tell myself. What
springs immediately to mind is the southern expression of amusement, pity, and
faint scorn, “Bless her heart.” But
gutsy, no. It’s been a long time since I
considered myself to have the brash, confident courage that makes up “guts”.
That
doesn’t mean that I’ve never had it. My
mother used to tell me when I was a child that I had more guts than
brains. Not necessarily a good thing, as
you may guess. It usually meant that I
was willing to throw myself into situations without really considering the
consequences. I was proud of the
description, though. I wanted to be seen
as brave, and of course, as a child consequences are so rarely a factor in
decision-making. Sometimes I wish it
were still that way.
It
does seem, however, that there is more of that brave child still in me than I
thought. After all, I am still stepping
up to that keyboard every Sunday, and spending my days in practicing so that
every week there will be less stumbling and more music. And an unknown someone—the kind of person
whose perception of you is occasionally more accurate than your perception of
yourself—called me “gutsy”, and meant it kindly. Maybe in time I can come to believe it. As my mother used to tell me, if I can
balance guts and brains, I will be much better off.
