I always thrived in PE and at recess....the boys my age (and even some older) all hated that I could do more sit-ups and chin-ups than they could and shimmy up that rope faster than any of them. I was a gymnast, so it made sense, but still....I loved it!
I was surprisingly consistent in games of "knock-out" on the basketball court, shooting swish after swish from the 3-point line.
In Jr. High, myself and another boy in my class had to be sent up to the high school room at our private school for help with our more advanced Math Paces. (I hate math, but apparently I used to be fairly decent at it). I always was given higher grade level books to read, and more complicated spelling/vocabulary words.
I moved to AZ when I was 13, and it was during my freshman year of high school, that I began to exclusively pursue the performing arts. I took drama class every single year, and was involved, in some way, shape, or form, in all but 2 shows that were produced during my four years at PVHS. And here is where it all truly started. That feeling of never being good enough. Of being the last one picked to be on a team. I can recall so painfully vivid, those days after an audition, of approaching those dreaded call-back and cast lists and searching for my name, with my heart in my throat. Sometimes it was there....the majority of the time it was not. But still I participated as part of the team. I never landed the leading role, with the exception of a one-act play. But I always auditioned. And every single time, I would pray and believe that maybe....MAYBE this time would be it.
Every time my name was not on that list, I would walk away with my head held high, a smile and word of congratulations to others on my lips. Until of course, I got home. Then the tears would come. Through the torrent of tears, I would pour out my heart to my Heavenly Father. I would beg Him to change me and give me whatever it was that made those "other" people special and good enough. And by "others" of course I was not just limiting this prayer to those that were given the leads in the school play, but also to those who seemed to be given the leads in LIFE....the girls that were beautiful...you know, the ones that all the boys liked. The ones that the other girls never made fun of. The ones that were "popular." That was never me. That never will be me. But over the past couple years in particular, God has been teaching me that it really DOESN'T MATTER what "others" think of me....it is only that HE THINKS OF ME. He thinks of me. Period. The creator of the whole entire universe knows my name and formed me ON PURPOSE in my mother's womb. He placed inside of me everything I need to be the woman that He created me to be.
So once again, I find myself shut away in my room, with a torrent of tears, pouring out my confused, hurting, heart to the one who created that very heart. He has not forgotten me. He comforts me. I am clinging to Him and to His promises to me, as He assures me yet again, that it doesn't matter if I am "good enough" for others....I am perfect in His eyes. While the enemy tries to pull me down, with his lies of self-pity, shame, and unworthiness......Jesus lifts me up, sets me on His strong shoulders, and shows me the riches of His grace and the big picture of what lies ahead. I enter this new season of my life with thanksgiving and joy, hope and anticipation of all the amazing things I will get to witness as His glory is proclaimed.
How can I be so completely EXCITED for this future and yet so terribly devastated all at the same time? Because this is just another one of those times that I get to feel like the kid on the playground that gets picked last for the team.
Only this time, I KNOW that the part I play is just as valuable as any lead in the school play. ❤
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