Ordinary. The dictionary defines it as “having no special ability, quality, or purpose.” Ouch, right? It’s not exactly the word anyone rushes to label themselves with. But, for most of my life, I believed that word summed me up perfectly.

I know what you might be thinking. Wow, way to have low self-esteem. But hear me out, because this is about more than just a definition in the dictionary.

I’ve always thought of myself as ordinary. I’m not what you might call unattractive, but I wouldn’t describe myself as beautiful either. I’ve always struggled to keep weight on, which, trust me, sounds like a blessing until you realize there’s no muscle tone underneath it. My intelligence? Average (and that’s me being kind to myself because, honestly, on some days, I feel like it dips below that line). I can be crafty, but nothing Pinterest-worthy. I can sketch, but you won’t see my work in a gallery. And the list goes on.

For years, this ordinary feeling nagged at me like a pebble in my shoe. I couldn’t settle for just being okay at something. I had to be the best. I became an overachiever, wearing perfectionism like armor for a battle I couldn’t win.

• If I studied, I had to get a 4.0.
• If I ran, I had to beat my previous time.
• When I became a wife and mom, I wasn’t content with just doing my best. I obsessed over being perfect. Cooking. Cleaning. Parenting. Everything had to be above and beyond.

Looking back, it’s no small mystery why my marriage didn’t last. My husband had his own struggles, sure, but how exhausting it must have been to live with someone trying so hard to be anything but ordinary.

The Problem with Perfection

For years, I lived in this loop. If I didn’t hit the impossible standard of “the best,” I’d quit. Or worse, I’d work myself to the point of total burnout trying to make it happen.

This cycle hurt so many people I love. And in truth, it hurt me even more. How many times did I pour my all into something, only to collapse in frustration when I couldn’t meet my own expectations? I spent years breaking myself in half, trying to prove I was more than average, more than just ordinary.

The irony? I thought imperfection was failure. But I didn’t understand… ordinary isn’t failure.

The Freedom in Failure

John F. Kennedy once said, “Those who dare to fail miserably can achieve greatly.”

And yeah, you better believe I failed miserably. Over and over again.

But you know what? I’m grateful for every single one of those failures. They were growing pains, necessary stepping stones to something far greater.

Because here’s the thing I’ve learned about failure, about being ordinary, about not always standing out in the crowd. Every crack, every flaw, every stumble has shaped who I am today.

The Potter and the Clay

One of my favorite verses is this one from Isaiah 64:8:

“Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.”

Think about that for a second. We are clay in the hands of the ultimate creator.

I picture myself as a simple gray clay pot. Nothing too fancy, no bold designs or flashes of color. Just me, plain and unassuming. But in the hands of the potter? Oh, I am so much more. The purpose, the meaning, the exceptional beauty lies not in how extravagant the design of the pot is, but in what the pot is shaped to hold.

It’s taken me years to understand this. To know down to my soul that being “ordinary” doesn’t mean I lack special qualities or purpose. It means I have a foundation that can be molded, built upon, transformed.

You Are Exceptional

If you’ve ever felt like you’re only ordinary, like there’s nothing extraordinary about you, I want you to know this truth. You are unique. You are exceptional. Not because of how perfect you are, or what you’ve achieved, or whether anyone sees you as extraordinary.

You are exceptional because you were shaped with care and love by a creator who knows you deeply.

And here’s the best part about being clay in the potter’s hands: it doesn’t matter where you start. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you’re just an ordinary pot. What matters is your willingness to be molded, to be shaped through every failure, every setback, every gray and messy moment.

From Ordinary to Strength

I no longer aim for perfection. Instead, I aim for growth, for purpose, for connection. Being “ordinary” isn’t a limitation; it’s a blank slate, a vessel for something extraordinary.

If you’re out there feeling like just another face in the crowd, feeling like the word “ordinary” defines you, I hope you’ll take this to heart. Your cracks and imperfections aren’t flaws to be hidden; they’re the spaces where your light shines through.

It’s a long road to let go of perfection, to learn to accept and even love being ordinary. But once you do? That’s when life gets extraordinary.

Take it from someone who’s spent years learning this the hard way. Ordinary doesn’t lessen you. It makes room for your growth, for your incredible potential, for the beauty and strength that has always been inside you.