I live amongst trees. The plant kind and the human kind. And both kinds make me feel small, but in a good way.
For the record, I’m definitely not a small human. If you want to know how much I weigh, well, that just ain’t happening, but I’ll freely reveal my height. Nobody looks at a tall person and thinks, “They really ought to lay off the Girl Scout cookies,” so I have no problem telling you I’m 5-foot-8. That’s on the short side of tall for a woman, but still four inches taller than the average American female.
I was always attracted to tall guys and snagged an excellent one—a 6-foot-5 “tall drink of water,” as my grandpa used to say. I like being tucked up under the arm of someone who makes me feel downright petite. My sons inherited their daddy’s tall gene, so my perception of what’s normal when it comes to height is quite skewed, living amongst human trees as I do.
This topic is on my mind because the election circus train is currently rolling across the nation and one of the sideshows, up until this week, featured a discussion about a particular candidate’s height (or lack thereof). Will Michael Bloomberg stand on a box when he’s on a debate stage next to taller opponents? Does he wear elevator shoes?
While I’m more familiar with the challenges faced by extra-tall men—like finding clothes, cars and beds that fit, and how painful it is to squeeze one’s long frame into an airline seat—Bloomberg’s plight reminded me that extra-short guys face challenges, too.
All this attention on height prompted me to do a bit of research on “elevator shoes.” I was never sure what they actually were, but I assumed they’d make wearers look pretty strange, like they were plodding around with blocks of wood strapped to their feet. I learned, however, that elevator shoes, reputedly worn by celebrities Sylvester Stallone and Tom Cruise, actually have wedges stealthily built into the inner soles and are slightly less weird than I imagined.
A writer for Esquire magazine, Max Berlinger, gave elevator shoes a try and wrote about the experience, concluding that while they did add a couple of inches to his stature, he felt very “wobbly” on them. Instead of instilling confidence, Berlinger said the shoes actually made him feel uncomfortably self-conscious.
“No strangers I encountered indicated they were on to me, but I felt like people knew I had a trick up my sleeve (or in my shoes, rather),” Berlinger wrote.
A friend of mine who’s done some internet dating has concluded that every man under 5-foot-10 adds at least two bogus inches to their height on their dating site profile. How crazy and pointless is that since their lie is immediately exposed on the first date?
All in all, trying to make ourselves look taller than we are probably isn’t a good idea. We can’t stand on boxes or wear elevator shoes all the time. Embracing the reality of our stature makes much more sense, and I’m not just talking about our physical stature.
One reason I enjoy walking in our woods is that being out in God’s creation always reminds me how big He is, which in turn helps me put myself and my problems in perspective.
I don’t lament my relative smallness; I relish it. After all, our highest call and greatest joy is found in making much of God, not ourselves.
It’s a big thing to know how small we are. It brings us to our knees in worship and causes our hearts to swell with gratitude for the great love of a big, big God.
“He must increase, but I must decrease.” – John 3:30