One Size Does Not Fit All — Or Does It?

I’m used to being the most height-challenged one in my family. I was the shortest among my siblings, and that trend continued into my adulthood. My husband is a little over 6’3”; our oldest son somewhere around 6’4”; the second son is the same height as his father; our oldest daughter is over 5”9” and even our youngest, the baby … well, she stands somewhere between 5’8” and 5’9”. One of the most amusing photos we’ve ever taken is of me and our daughters in ballet class together, standing at the barre, me in the middle, a child on either side – and both of them en pointe. They tower over me! You see, I’m 5’4” – if I stand up really straight!

I’ve made peace with the fact that I can’t reach the top shelves of my cabinets or my pantry without a stepladder. And I’ve adjusted to trying on “crops” that end a few inches above my ankles and pants in a size six which have to be hemmed so I don’t trip over them. I did recently find some bathing suits whose labels read “one size fits all” and, surprisingly enough, they fit me. However, I know it would be comical to see either of my girls try to wear them. But a couple of years ago, my height (or lack thereof) gave me an experience I found both extremely funny and slightly terrifying.

My husband and I were staying in a hotel in San Diego for a couple of nights while we took care of business in the downtown area, and late one afternoon, we decided to have a small snack in the hotel bar. We ended up sitting there a while sharing some appetizer plates and discussing what to do for the rest of the day and evening. Since it was summer, the sun would be up for at least a couple more hours, so we decided we’d take a walk after we ate. I needed to use the restroom before we did that, so I left Steve to guard my stuff and wandered into the lovely women’s restroom, which was completely empty at the time. It was obviously recently redesigned and remodeled and I admired the way they’d chosen to do it as I walked past the sinks and down the row of stalls. Choosing one, I closed the door behind me and proceeded to use the facilities.

As I sat down on the seat, I realized it was a little higher than I was used to. I’ve run across toilets in public restrooms before that are high enough to make it so my toes are all that touches the ground. So, I wasn’t too worried about it and settled back in the seat. But as I finished up in this bathroom, I realized my feet, even with my toes completely pointed, were drifting freely in the air like a small child on a swing. You don’t realize how difficult it can be to get up off a seat without your feet on the ground until you try it.

“Well, this is awkward,” I said to no one but myself since I was still the only one in the room. “Maybe I can slide forward a little.”

That might have worked, except that as well as being elevated, it turned out the seat was also tipped slightly toward the back … almost like the design engineer had feared someone might fall forward off of it. By now I was giggling to myself, picturing my embarrassment if I had to stay there until someone else came in whom I could ask to rescue me. Then I became even more amused as I realized the rescue itself would be awkward, since the stall was deep enough that I couldn’t reach the lock on my door from my current position. I was picturing someone having to crawl under the stall door where their first view of my predicament would be two feet dangling in midair.

“Okay, get a grip,” I whispered. “I can figure this out!”

After some thought, I began rocking side to side, lifting one thigh at a time and gradually shifting my weight toward the front until I reached the tipping point and my toes made contact with the floor.

I’m not sure why, but the picture of myself in that restroom stall popped into my head a few days ago during my “before I get out of bed” devotional time. As I pondered it with a big smile on my face, it came to me that cupboards, clothing and toilets aren’t the only things in my life where one size doesn’t fit all. There are times when I think about some of the trials my friends or family members have gone through, or are currently experiencing, and I can’t help but wonder why them and not someone else. Or I stop for a moment to survey the gifts I’ve been given, and ask God, “Why me?”

And it’s then I realize, not for the first time, that God created each of us differently, with special gifts, talents, and abilities. And he has designed a path for each one of us that is uniquely ours. You see, in God’s kingdom one size does not fit all – except in the case of the Father’s love and the blood of his son, Jesus.