I didn’t have much of a childhood. It was more like a roadmap.
My parents were urban gypsies. They were constantly moving: running from bill collectors, seeking something better, dragging us 4 kids along for the ride.
My brother Jon claims he counted out 44 different homes before we graduated from high school. He could be right. I remember roach infested apartments, seedy trailer parks, three homes with no running water, one with no electricity and a dirt floor. One place we lived in for two years. Another we were at for less than a month. We enrolled in 16 different schools in 3 different states.
All that moving around doesn’t put you at the top of the popularity ladder in school. It puts you below the bottom rung. I was a target for bullies, picked last for teams, people whispered and giggled when I walked past. Jon and I were in the same grade. We were often in the same class. Since we were both social outcasts, we often teamed up for class projects and other activities. Yes, partnering with your brother doesn’t help your social standing either, but when no one else wants you on their team…(sigh).
Somehow, I always managed to have a friend or two. My strategy was: the first day you walk into a new classroom, look for the person who has no one else sitting by them. Introduce yourself and sit down. Usually, they were also a welfare kid, clothed by Goodwill and just as friendless as I was.
Things changed in high school. We were actually at the same building for all 4 of our high school years. I had two friends, but I wanted something more: I wanted a boyfriend.
Things at home were worse than normal. My parents always seemed to be fighting. It was a kind of joke among us kids: when we were little there’d be a huge argument every week. By middle school, it was every other day. In high school, the fights were every night. They were screaming matches with name calling, accusations and degrading language. My folks had no time for us kids. They only had time to hate each other.
I needed someone to love me. I needed a boyfriend.
I prayed for a boyfriend. I pleaded with God for a boyfriend.
And God said No. Over and over, his answer was NO.
I graduated from high school without a boyfriend. Grad night would be my last in Nebraska. All of our belongings were packed up and we were leaving for Kansas in the morning. My parents were kind enough to let Jon and I go to the senior all night party.
It was the early 80’s and “Freeze Frame” by J. Geils Band was a hit on the radio. It was also the theme song for one of the senior girls (I’ll call her Becky). Becky had a reputation of being “friendly” with every member of the football team and they claimed to have the pictures to prove it. There at the bowling alley, the song came on the radio. Shouts and cheers went up. Everyone zeroed their attention in on Becky, cat calling and jeering. Becky got another ovation when she was called up to get a gift card.
“Freeze Frame! Freeze Frame!” The jocks all chanted. Becky smiled broadly as she came forward for her card. I couldn’t tell if the smile was in pride or to hide shame.
I never saw Becky again. I don’t know what became of her.
Seven years after high school, I finally got my boyfriend. We married two years later. I wore white. Yes, white. Yes, because.
I now realize what a gift it was that God never gave me a boyfriend during my high school years. As a love-starved social outcast, what would have prevented me from becoming a Becky if I’d fallen in with the wrong type of boyfriend and his pals?
Ephesians 6:14 says “Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness.” That breastplate is not only the righteousness of God’s Son that is bestowed on you as a Christian, but also the righteousness he calls us to as his followers. The breastplate protects us from outside forces and holds our essence as a Christian in. What would have happened to my breastplate if I had gotten my wish in high school? Would the breastplate of my lonely youth have held up to social pressure, or would it have been sacrificed to serve up a proverbial chicken?
Often God protects us by NOT giving us what we want.
Thank you LORD, for wisdom greater than mine.