I love getting older. Maybe not the body-falling-apart thing, but I love the security and wisdom that comes with age. Life is so much more enjoyable when you don't feel the need to prove yourself to anyone any longer. I know that not everyone is going to like me, not that I've figured out why - I mean I think I'm a pretty nice person, but now that I've finally accepted this fact, I'm okay with it. I don't have to become someone I'm not in my attempts to make everyone like me. Woo-hoo!
Of course, this hasn't been a true statement for all that long. It especially wasn't true in junior high, which is where I've been living the past few days. Oh I know all the hype about leaving the past behind you and how we have to live in the moment, blah blah blah; but a few days ago, I opened my email to find that I had a Facebook message from a girl with whom I went to grade school. Even though I graduated from the 8th grade just . . . ummm . . . just a year or so ago, I was still shocked to see her name in my inbox. I spent the next 2 hours of my life sending out friend requests and Facebook messages to former classmates. That communication has continued, and my circle of Facebook friends from my past has grown. We're even planning a grade school reunion in just a couple of weeks.
As you might imagine, these connections have had me waxing nostalgic quite a bit lately. For example:
Kindergarten - the first time I remember seeing a pregnant woman. I thought it utterly ridiculous that a lady would walk around with a ball under her shirt.
First Grade -Mrs. Santen marked on my report card that I had to repeat first grade even though my grades were all above-average. I cried and cried and cried. I always knew that woman didn't like me.
Second Grade - Mrs. Ready must have been a baseball fan because we got to watch the Cards play in the world series during school hours.
Third Grade - I played Mary in our Easter play. Keith Liddy played Jesus, and he had to lay his head in my lap when the "soldiers" took him down from the cross. . . sooooo embarassing!
Fourth Grade - Mrs. Heyns told us at the beginning of the year that we would take a trip around the world that year. I was SO excited, and then SO disappointed when I figured out that she meant it figuratively not literally.
Fifth Grade - We were Miss. Shovenez's (sp?) first class and possibly her only class. We were that bad.
Sixth Grade - During one particular religion class, Mary Greco asked Sister Rose Ann if any of us might be a virgin (as in "the virgin Mary"). I don't know that I've ever seen a nun turn that red before or since.
Seventh Grade - Another bad year for the Gabe's class of '75. We were called into the gym (the only room big enough to seat both 7th grade classes together) over and over throughout the year as different instances of vandalism and abuse came to light.
Eighth Grade - Sister Francis Xavier . . . the name says it all.
Our pasts are full - of friendships, fun, and fond memories, but they are also full of pain, rejection, and failures. Is there any human who, at some point in their past, hasn't felt like an outsider even when among friends? Is there anyone who hasn't felt like they are the only one who doesn't fit in? Can a person possibly live through puberty - especially the junior high years - without pain?
The older I get and the more I talk with both adults and teens, the more I'm convinced that the answer to the above questions is an absolute no.
But here's the thing: while it may be true that each one of us carries within us the pains of our past, it is the whole of that past that has shaped who we are in the present. We are today the sum total of our joys and pains, our belongings and our rejections, our successes and our failures; and the events, conversations, decisions, and actions of today are part of who we will be tomorrow.
Knowing this and accepting this makes me appreciate my past all the more - including the hard & painful parts. So to everyone who has been a part of my past (even if you're a part of my present), thank you. Thank you for being a part of my life - all that it has been, all that it is, and all that it will be.
Of course, this hasn't been a true statement for all that long. It especially wasn't true in junior high, which is where I've been living the past few days. Oh I know all the hype about leaving the past behind you and how we have to live in the moment, blah blah blah; but a few days ago, I opened my email to find that I had a Facebook message from a girl with whom I went to grade school. Even though I graduated from the 8th grade just . . . ummm . . . just a year or so ago, I was still shocked to see her name in my inbox. I spent the next 2 hours of my life sending out friend requests and Facebook messages to former classmates. That communication has continued, and my circle of Facebook friends from my past has grown. We're even planning a grade school reunion in just a couple of weeks.
As you might imagine, these connections have had me waxing nostalgic quite a bit lately. For example:
Kindergarten - the first time I remember seeing a pregnant woman. I thought it utterly ridiculous that a lady would walk around with a ball under her shirt.
First Grade -Mrs. Santen marked on my report card that I had to repeat first grade even though my grades were all above-average. I cried and cried and cried. I always knew that woman didn't like me.
Second Grade - Mrs. Ready must have been a baseball fan because we got to watch the Cards play in the world series during school hours.
Third Grade - I played Mary in our Easter play. Keith Liddy played Jesus, and he had to lay his head in my lap when the "soldiers" took him down from the cross. . . sooooo embarassing!
Fourth Grade - Mrs. Heyns told us at the beginning of the year that we would take a trip around the world that year. I was SO excited, and then SO disappointed when I figured out that she meant it figuratively not literally.
Fifth Grade - We were Miss. Shovenez's (sp?) first class and possibly her only class. We were that bad.
Sixth Grade - During one particular religion class, Mary Greco asked Sister Rose Ann if any of us might be a virgin (as in "the virgin Mary"). I don't know that I've ever seen a nun turn that red before or since.
Seventh Grade - Another bad year for the Gabe's class of '75. We were called into the gym (the only room big enough to seat both 7th grade classes together) over and over throughout the year as different instances of vandalism and abuse came to light.
Eighth Grade - Sister Francis Xavier . . . the name says it all.
Our pasts are full - of friendships, fun, and fond memories, but they are also full of pain, rejection, and failures. Is there any human who, at some point in their past, hasn't felt like an outsider even when among friends? Is there anyone who hasn't felt like they are the only one who doesn't fit in? Can a person possibly live through puberty - especially the junior high years - without pain?
The older I get and the more I talk with both adults and teens, the more I'm convinced that the answer to the above questions is an absolute no.
But here's the thing: while it may be true that each one of us carries within us the pains of our past, it is the whole of that past that has shaped who we are in the present. We are today the sum total of our joys and pains, our belongings and our rejections, our successes and our failures; and the events, conversations, decisions, and actions of today are part of who we will be tomorrow.
Knowing this and accepting this makes me appreciate my past all the more - including the hard & painful parts. So to everyone who has been a part of my past (even if you're a part of my present), thank you. Thank you for being a part of my life - all that it has been, all that it is, and all that it will be.
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