Not so normal life...
I saw her today. Sunglasses propped on her head, strategic messy-pretty bun. It was my final test. I don't know why they were at Cracker Barrel. Possibly visiting someone in Jackson. Why come to Jackson after your wedding??? We locked eyes, but I don't think she knew me like I knew her. I thought of how she hurt him, and I got angry. But I also realized that she's got nothing on me. And that was my key to complete security in his past. She looks worn out, but not from good deeds. She looks worn out from indulging too much in herself. And I know that in my tiredest days, it will be because I'm pouring myself out for others. [this is not said to put myself on some god status] I can honestly say that was one of the weirdest days of my life. I felt like I was in a parallel universe. I've thought it over countless times on what I would say to her if I was ever face to face with her. And now that I actually was, I couldn't say anything. But then I realized I wouldn't have had I had the chance. Because it's not worth it. And I could literally jump 10 feet in excitement, just to know that it doesn't bother me anymore. God is my ultimate strength.
Wesley is inquiring about a basketball coaching position at a private school here. They need a girls' coach really badly for the junior high girls. He's set up for an interview on Thursday. I am extremely excited about this, because God has really been opening up that area as a ministry lately. He goes to Muse park every Sunday night and plays basketball for about three hours with whoever is there. It's not exactly the safest thing (last week he went and afterward the guys pulled out some weed and starting smoking) but he is really getting to not only improve his skill, but also build relationships with those he might otherwise not have had a relationship with if it had not been for basketball. Also, while he's been playing, God's been speaking to Him through the word and giving him messages to teach to kids through basketball. That was all happening before this opportunity came out of nowhere (someone actually approached him with it). So, it is clear that this is probably God's will. I don't want to be too hasty though. We know he will coach church league at Englewood when the season comes, but this is another opportunity that seems to have found its way into our lives. And it's completely blindsided both of us. Wesley told me today "Basketball has always been something I've really been passionate about, but I never thought I'd have a ministry out of it." God is full of surprises.
God is currently revealing in our lives that if we're going to have enough money for when we get married, we're going to have to rely on Him alone. Not on how hard we work. Not on how good we save. But on Him alone. Because we are way behind in our savings compared to our goal. And now, with him possibly taking this coaching job, it starts in a couple of weeks, they practice m, w, and f, and their games are on different days. So he's going to be seriously busy, and it doesn't pay a whole lot ($500 for the whole season, I think) and that is seriously scary. He won't have time to work like he's been, which equals less money. Scary.
I did my first Sunday in the nursery. It was so great! I loved it! Hallelujah station is a bit scarier. Wesley and I got our lesson plan for next week. I'm nervous, but excited. I hope the kids like us. They're a tough crowd. That's why I like the nursery. All you have to do is make silly faces and show them how something works, and they're your friend for life. But k-2nd is a bit different. We will be teaching 1st graders.
I look down on my finger sometimes, and I have to remember I'm engaged. I've been trying so hard to not think of it a lot, simply because thinking of it makes me want it more. And I hate that feeling of limbo, so I try to distract myself from it. But when I do remember it, it is overwhelmingly beautiful. It is a reflection of God's heart for me. And God loves me an oceanful.
And that's what I've been figuring out lately. That new season that I've been craving is finally here. Ben was right in what he talked about in chapel. This is still a season of singleness for me. And that's why I'm diving into ministry Women's Bible study and trying to find as many women to mentor me as possible (or as much as I have time for). I'm seeing a small glimpse of the woman I want so desperately to be. My emotions stay sort of level these days, a huge accomplishment from the usual. Every once in awhile they get psycho, and then that's followed by a cycle of psycho, but then I level out again. It's a slow, aching process, but it's a process nonetheless.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Field Day
I checked the plastic Dollar General bag one more time to make sure the Tupperware container hadn't leaked. I wound the handles around it and fastened it with a rubber band. I grabbed the worn-in footstool from its normal spot, beneath the chair mom collapsed in after a day's work at the Winn-Dixie bakery. Opening the top cabinet, I placed the bottle in its original place, minus a cupful of its contents. I looked up at the clock on the wall. I was going to be late if I didn't start walking to the bus stop soon.
My palms were itching as I carried my clear backpack over my flanneled shoulder. I was supposed to meet Lauren and Katie in the girls' bathroom seven minutes before the second bell rang. My eyes shifted over each person in the hallway, searching for anyone with x-ray vision that might penetrate my backpack and see straight through the shopping sack. Entering the bathroom, I immediately noticed Lauren and Katie leaning against the tiled wall. They eyed me knowingly, and I reached into my bag, pulling out the container. The crinkling echoed off of the empty stalls.
I knew exactly how I had gotten myself into this mess. I was home alone, as was usual during most afternoons. I was talking on the phone using three-way. It was my favorite way to talk to Lauren and Katie. We were best friends, beginning that school year of eighth grade. We all had an equal hatred for the popular crowd, so we became the opposite of everything normal. They had regular drinking lives, and although I pretended to know a lot about it, the only alcohol I had ever had was from the communal cup at Catholic mass. That particular Wednesday, I bragged about all the alcohol my mother had in her liquor cabinet. Katie suggested I bring some to school for her, because she was “in the mood for something hard.” I nonchalantly asked her what she preferred, and Vodka was what I poured into the container the night before. I had snuck it right before my mom returned from work. She closed the door, pastry-scented and exhausted. I had butterflies in my stomach, and they were rebelling rapidly against their intestinal cage. Mom always had a psychic sixth sense, and I just knew she would notice what was missing from her collection.
Katie's face twisted in disgust as she drank from the Tupperware. She seemed to choke on it. I wondered how someone who had been so experienced could have such a hard time swallowing it down. “It's too strong for in the morning. Here; take it back. We'll save it for later.” I stepped backward as she tried to hand it to me. My eyes began to shift nervously. “No way. I thought I'd be through with that. I'm not taking it back.” Katie looked at me as if she were going to say something that would send me home crying, but then she turned to Lauren. “Here, you take it. Put it in your jacket.” Lauren had always been an acting minion of Katie's, and she quickly obeyed. I stared at Lauren. She had beady eyes, and she was overweight and intimidating. She stuck the container in her camouflaged pocket and felt my eyes piercing hers. “Whatever you do, do not let them trace it back to me if you get caught. Do not mention my name.” She nodded, and I asked her to verbally promise me that I would remain anonymous. She agreed, and I left the bathroom feeling only slightly comforted.
It was a field day, and the last Friday of classes before exam week. Katie, Lauren, and I had agreed to meet outside and sit on the sidelines, our usual routine for any organized activity. I clutched my yearbook in my hands, hoping that I could collect some signatures before the weekend. When my homeroom left for the halls, I waited by a stone table, the location we had agreed upon. I saw Katie exit from the black double-doors, but Lauren was nowhere to be found. She explained to me that Lauren had been taken to the Principal's office because the container had leaked in her jacket pocket. The Vice Principal was walking down the hall when the scent wafted in front of her. An officer was there to escort Lauren. I frantically asked Katie if she thought Lauren would reveal that I was the main culprit. She shrugged, pushing her dishwater-colored hair behind her ears. I only had fifteen minutes to wonder. My homeroom teacher came up to me, walkie talkie in hand, telling me that they needed me in the Principal's office.
The hallway seemed to stretch longer as I counted the lockers on either side of me. At the end of that walk was the Vice Principal, along with an elderly police officer. They sat me down, with Lauren in the chair beside me. I didn't want to ever look into those beady eyes again. They called my mother, and she sobbed so loud I could hear it from my seat on the other side of the desk. I wouldn't be able to complete the next week of school, they said. I would have to make up my exams the week after school let out.
That summer was the longest break of my life. My mother had decided my friends were bad influences, and so I wasn't allowed to talk to any of them. Rumor had it that Lauren had gotten revenge due to my betrayal. She developed her own story, telling Katie I had explained to the Principal how it had all been Katie's idea, and that I had nothing to do with it. My mother made me go to a psychiatrist. She wore expensive suits and too much makeup, asked me meaningless questions, and charged too much. One session, I told her that sometimes when I got depressed, I would cut my wrists with my razor. I explained how one of my classmates had noticed it once, and I said my cat had done it. I explained to the psychiatrist how that was impossible since I was allergic to cats. She raised her groomed eyebrows and said we would have to talk about that during our next meeting. I never saw her again. They had a hearing at the end of the summer, and although we thought it would look good that I had been to counseling and participated in various community services throughout the summer, they sent me to the Harrison County Alternative School.
Alternative school was a school for the bad kids. I heard stories from many of my classmates about the institution. I had only been in detention a total of three times in my whole educational history. I wasn't a bad kid. I kept to myself, not becoming comfortable with my surroundings until two months into the program. The bus was the worst part. If you didn't know someone, you weren't going to get a seat. I didn't know anyone, and each time I asked to sit with a stranger, they would roll their eyes and cuss underneath their breath. I eventually got in good with Daniel, a creepy, gawky guy who had an obsession with me because of my brown eyes. He called me a few times, always playing songs to me through the earpiece.
Not Katie, Lauren, or any of my other friends tried to contact me the whole time I was there. I was sure the rumor had spread to everyone in my group, and they thought I was a traitor to the circle. But I didn't care anymore. Because I realized the people I had chosen to be around weren't who I was. I had never been a deliquent, and because of them, I had become one. I had begun to sacrifice the integrity my father's family worked so hard to instill within me. It would stop here.
I worked extra hard to make straight A's while in alternative school. The great thing about the curriculum was that it was set at a very average level. I had plenty of time to read, and would often finish whole books in a single week period. I had been experimenting with writing, and began scribbling thoughts, stories, and poems in a notebook. Over time, the stories and poems became more and more developed. I became a favorite among the staff, and they even complained about how much they would miss me. They knew I didn't belong there, and they asked me to come back and visit and let them know how things were going.
My last day, I exited the building and breathed a sigh of relief. I knew the road ahead was going to be a very painful one. I had already encountered Katie and Lauren one morning while boarding the bus. They threw insults at me, shoving me and threatening to beat me up once I returned to our public school. They threw french fries at me during lunch break. They had convinced all of my friends that I was a horrible person, and I never regained the previous friendships I had before. I tried my hardest not to let it affect me. I poured all of my energy into writing and coursework. My teachers complimented me on how well I was excelling, and soon Lauren and Katie were no longer a concern to me. I made new friends; friends that my mom would actually let me stay the night with. Their friendship didn't jeopardize my identity. Instead, they encouraged me and provided support in all areas of my life. These are the friends I still have to this day.
I always laugh when I see the look of shock on someone's face when I tell them my past includes being kicked out of public school. I don't exactly use it as an icebreaker at parties, but it is a wonderful testament to God's divine intervention. They say they can't imagine me ever doing something like that. They try to couple who I am now with that insecure 8th grader, and it is impossible for them to do so. And that is exactly how it is supposed to be.
My palms were itching as I carried my clear backpack over my flanneled shoulder. I was supposed to meet Lauren and Katie in the girls' bathroom seven minutes before the second bell rang. My eyes shifted over each person in the hallway, searching for anyone with x-ray vision that might penetrate my backpack and see straight through the shopping sack. Entering the bathroom, I immediately noticed Lauren and Katie leaning against the tiled wall. They eyed me knowingly, and I reached into my bag, pulling out the container. The crinkling echoed off of the empty stalls.
I knew exactly how I had gotten myself into this mess. I was home alone, as was usual during most afternoons. I was talking on the phone using three-way. It was my favorite way to talk to Lauren and Katie. We were best friends, beginning that school year of eighth grade. We all had an equal hatred for the popular crowd, so we became the opposite of everything normal. They had regular drinking lives, and although I pretended to know a lot about it, the only alcohol I had ever had was from the communal cup at Catholic mass. That particular Wednesday, I bragged about all the alcohol my mother had in her liquor cabinet. Katie suggested I bring some to school for her, because she was “in the mood for something hard.” I nonchalantly asked her what she preferred, and Vodka was what I poured into the container the night before. I had snuck it right before my mom returned from work. She closed the door, pastry-scented and exhausted. I had butterflies in my stomach, and they were rebelling rapidly against their intestinal cage. Mom always had a psychic sixth sense, and I just knew she would notice what was missing from her collection.
Katie's face twisted in disgust as she drank from the Tupperware. She seemed to choke on it. I wondered how someone who had been so experienced could have such a hard time swallowing it down. “It's too strong for in the morning. Here; take it back. We'll save it for later.” I stepped backward as she tried to hand it to me. My eyes began to shift nervously. “No way. I thought I'd be through with that. I'm not taking it back.” Katie looked at me as if she were going to say something that would send me home crying, but then she turned to Lauren. “Here, you take it. Put it in your jacket.” Lauren had always been an acting minion of Katie's, and she quickly obeyed. I stared at Lauren. She had beady eyes, and she was overweight and intimidating. She stuck the container in her camouflaged pocket and felt my eyes piercing hers. “Whatever you do, do not let them trace it back to me if you get caught. Do not mention my name.” She nodded, and I asked her to verbally promise me that I would remain anonymous. She agreed, and I left the bathroom feeling only slightly comforted.
It was a field day, and the last Friday of classes before exam week. Katie, Lauren, and I had agreed to meet outside and sit on the sidelines, our usual routine for any organized activity. I clutched my yearbook in my hands, hoping that I could collect some signatures before the weekend. When my homeroom left for the halls, I waited by a stone table, the location we had agreed upon. I saw Katie exit from the black double-doors, but Lauren was nowhere to be found. She explained to me that Lauren had been taken to the Principal's office because the container had leaked in her jacket pocket. The Vice Principal was walking down the hall when the scent wafted in front of her. An officer was there to escort Lauren. I frantically asked Katie if she thought Lauren would reveal that I was the main culprit. She shrugged, pushing her dishwater-colored hair behind her ears. I only had fifteen minutes to wonder. My homeroom teacher came up to me, walkie talkie in hand, telling me that they needed me in the Principal's office.
The hallway seemed to stretch longer as I counted the lockers on either side of me. At the end of that walk was the Vice Principal, along with an elderly police officer. They sat me down, with Lauren in the chair beside me. I didn't want to ever look into those beady eyes again. They called my mother, and she sobbed so loud I could hear it from my seat on the other side of the desk. I wouldn't be able to complete the next week of school, they said. I would have to make up my exams the week after school let out.
That summer was the longest break of my life. My mother had decided my friends were bad influences, and so I wasn't allowed to talk to any of them. Rumor had it that Lauren had gotten revenge due to my betrayal. She developed her own story, telling Katie I had explained to the Principal how it had all been Katie's idea, and that I had nothing to do with it. My mother made me go to a psychiatrist. She wore expensive suits and too much makeup, asked me meaningless questions, and charged too much. One session, I told her that sometimes when I got depressed, I would cut my wrists with my razor. I explained how one of my classmates had noticed it once, and I said my cat had done it. I explained to the psychiatrist how that was impossible since I was allergic to cats. She raised her groomed eyebrows and said we would have to talk about that during our next meeting. I never saw her again. They had a hearing at the end of the summer, and although we thought it would look good that I had been to counseling and participated in various community services throughout the summer, they sent me to the Harrison County Alternative School.
Alternative school was a school for the bad kids. I heard stories from many of my classmates about the institution. I had only been in detention a total of three times in my whole educational history. I wasn't a bad kid. I kept to myself, not becoming comfortable with my surroundings until two months into the program. The bus was the worst part. If you didn't know someone, you weren't going to get a seat. I didn't know anyone, and each time I asked to sit with a stranger, they would roll their eyes and cuss underneath their breath. I eventually got in good with Daniel, a creepy, gawky guy who had an obsession with me because of my brown eyes. He called me a few times, always playing songs to me through the earpiece.
Not Katie, Lauren, or any of my other friends tried to contact me the whole time I was there. I was sure the rumor had spread to everyone in my group, and they thought I was a traitor to the circle. But I didn't care anymore. Because I realized the people I had chosen to be around weren't who I was. I had never been a deliquent, and because of them, I had become one. I had begun to sacrifice the integrity my father's family worked so hard to instill within me. It would stop here.
I worked extra hard to make straight A's while in alternative school. The great thing about the curriculum was that it was set at a very average level. I had plenty of time to read, and would often finish whole books in a single week period. I had been experimenting with writing, and began scribbling thoughts, stories, and poems in a notebook. Over time, the stories and poems became more and more developed. I became a favorite among the staff, and they even complained about how much they would miss me. They knew I didn't belong there, and they asked me to come back and visit and let them know how things were going.
My last day, I exited the building and breathed a sigh of relief. I knew the road ahead was going to be a very painful one. I had already encountered Katie and Lauren one morning while boarding the bus. They threw insults at me, shoving me and threatening to beat me up once I returned to our public school. They threw french fries at me during lunch break. They had convinced all of my friends that I was a horrible person, and I never regained the previous friendships I had before. I tried my hardest not to let it affect me. I poured all of my energy into writing and coursework. My teachers complimented me on how well I was excelling, and soon Lauren and Katie were no longer a concern to me. I made new friends; friends that my mom would actually let me stay the night with. Their friendship didn't jeopardize my identity. Instead, they encouraged me and provided support in all areas of my life. These are the friends I still have to this day.
I always laugh when I see the look of shock on someone's face when I tell them my past includes being kicked out of public school. I don't exactly use it as an icebreaker at parties, but it is a wonderful testament to God's divine intervention. They say they can't imagine me ever doing something like that. They try to couple who I am now with that insecure 8th grader, and it is impossible for them to do so. And that is exactly how it is supposed to be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)