As I looked for a picture of me and Jessica to post I had to laugh. Most of the pictures of us are rather unattractive. Not because we are unattractive people. Rather because for some reason we have a tendency to make very stupid faces in front of a camera. So, I decided to post a couple...
Freshman year formal.
Junior year formal.
Ya, this is what I referring to...
On the bus to Senior trip, probably listening to Taylor Swift
You get the point, we're silly. Very very silly.
However, while were at Six Flags, we weren't the ones being silly. The school bus loads of recent Junior High graduates were. This is the part where I cleverly tie in my title and get to the actual point of this post. Even though I did rather enjoy digging up those photos. :)
As we watched these young teens in line throughout the day, one thought continued to flow through both of our heads: I'm so glad I'm not them.
Seriously though. If you offered me 1 million dollars to do Junior High again, I would say no. I don't really think any amount of money would be worth going through that much emotional turmoil again.
No, my Junior High experience was not nearly as dramatic as the tv shows we all watched when we were younger. There were no hunky boyfriends with bitchy ex girlfriends who made it their life's goal to make my life miserable. There was however gossip, lots and lots of gossip. And fat jokes. Neither of those things made positive contributions to my self-esteem.
Other than mean, I think the best word to describe Junior High would have to be awkward. Seriously though. You have a bunch of kids just starting puberty, hormones raging, being forced to spend 7 hours a day, 5 days a week together. For me, that meant 35 hours a week of trying. Trying to be smart, pretty, and socially acceptable. Most days, I felt like none of these things.
I didn't have long, straight, blonde hair. I wasn't skinny. I had a weird sense of humor. And, I talked to much. I'm not really sure why I used past tense, because all of those things are still true. Although, I did learn how to style my curly hair without looking like a troll doll. But, hair aside, here's what's different: I don't hate myself now. In Junior High, I did.
It's taken me 7 years, but, I finally realize that I don't need to change any of those things to be the woman that God made me to be.
I am smart. I don't need to be skinny. God has a husband in mind for me that won't care that I don't wear a size 4. And as for the weird sense of humor, I've just kind of accepted that it's not going anywhere any time soon.
So, as we stood in line and watched them interact I wished I could tell them, the girls especially, to hang in there. It gets better. Your worth as a person does not have to be defined by what jeans you wear and how many boys think you're cute. And that life is too short to hate yourself. Because at the end of the day, Jesus loves you to pieces. And when you hate yourself, it hurts him; because he made you in his image.
Other than mean, I think the best word to describe Junior High would have to be awkward. Seriously though. You have a bunch of kids just starting puberty, hormones raging, being forced to spend 7 hours a day, 5 days a week together. For me, that meant 35 hours a week of trying. Trying to be smart, pretty, and socially acceptable. Most days, I felt like none of these things.
I didn't have long, straight, blonde hair. I wasn't skinny. I had a weird sense of humor. And, I talked to much. I'm not really sure why I used past tense, because all of those things are still true. Although, I did learn how to style my curly hair without looking like a troll doll. But, hair aside, here's what's different: I don't hate myself now. In Junior High, I did.
It's taken me 7 years, but, I finally realize that I don't need to change any of those things to be the woman that God made me to be.
I am smart. I don't need to be skinny. God has a husband in mind for me that won't care that I don't wear a size 4. And as for the weird sense of humor, I've just kind of accepted that it's not going anywhere any time soon.
So, as we stood in line and watched them interact I wished I could tell them, the girls especially, to hang in there. It gets better. Your worth as a person does not have to be defined by what jeans you wear and how many boys think you're cute. And that life is too short to hate yourself. Because at the end of the day, Jesus loves you to pieces. And when you hate yourself, it hurts him; because he made you in his image.
amen! Lovin' this post
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