With only eight weeks remaining in our eighth grade year, the private school we were attending abruptly decided to close its doors. This presented many parents, including mine, with a conundrum. Should they send me to another private school? Public school? Home school?
I was rather shy and quiet. In this sense, I was the opposite of both my older sister and younger brother. April was three years older than me. She was outgoing, loud and fun. And even though this school switch happened just before her senior year, she seemed eager to attend public school for the first time.
Kyle was two years younger than me and had the same personality as my father. He had never met a stranger in his life. As a sixth grader, he was short for his age but he exuded a rare confidence wherever he went. People were drawn to him and he made friends easily. Kyle already attended public schools since my parents started him at the beginning of his sixth grade year.
Soon the decision was made. I would join Kyle at the public middle school for my last quarter of eighth grade. This thought scared me but excited me at the same time. None of my old friends would join me at this new school, including Joey.
Being the “new girl” had its perks, but I didn’t see them right away. I knew a few people from our neighborhood, but not many. I distinctly remember locking myself in a bathroom so I could cry one day. As it turned out, my eyes leaked a lot that first week. Eventually, however, I seemed to find my niche.
For the first time in my life, I was introduced to honors classes (which I loved), blatant unbelievers (who shocked me) and an academia that did not revolve around the Bible, strict dress code rules and small class size. This presented me with two options. Do I embrace my new freedoms and dive headfirst into the “typical teenage” life or do I finally put some feet to my faith and stand up for something I knew in my heart was worth standing up for?
I chose the latter but it wasn’t always easy. Sometimes I found myself telling God it would be a lot easier if He provided me with a nice Christian boyfriend that could be strong with me, make tough choices with me and never let me be lonely. I may or may not have had someone in mind for this role. It was like I was winking at God, telling Him what I thought I needed to do the hard things that He wanted me to do.
But the Lord kept telling me to wait. He didn't wink back the way I wanted, but in a different way. By the end of that school year, most the kids on our block and a few others from our bus route began coming to our house once a week for a Bible study led by my dad. The study continued on through the summer and numerous friendships were formed. I remember thinking maybe God had the whole school closing/switching to public school thing planned all along. Could He have plans for me that were bigger than the bubble I had been living in? I wondered.
But I also periodically kept telling Him that this new journey would be a lot more enjoyable if I had a nice Christian boyfriend. Please, God? (wink, wink)
