Twelve years old

Me and Bri -- Christmas of 1990. I was about 13.

Eighth grade class trip to Epcot with Kelly who I have known since I was a baby.

I think this was my birthday party in fifth or sixth grade? It was at the bowling alley and I am playing with this ball that sticks to these suction cups.

Have I told you all lately that I really love this Bible Study I am a part of at the Methodist church in Niceville? (Although I did miss yesterday due to our little sick boy.) It's fantastic! A huge thank you to my new friend Robyn for inviting me!

All right so right about now you are probably wondering what the heck the Bible Study has to do with the pictures I included above.

Hang with me. I'm getting there.

We are studying Esther. In the Bible Study that is. Last week, we started talking about how amazingly overwhelming it would be to be thrust into a harem of women and have to be judged on your beauty. Not only that but Esther was well liked. Not just by the eunuch who guided her and the King, but by the other women as well. She must have been one incredible gal.

That led to a discussion in our small group about our own insecurities as women. I remembered something JB always says. That in our minds, when we look in the mirror, we all still see ourselves as if we were twelve years old. JB often jokes that he sees the chubby little boy in corduroy pants. What do I see?

Rewind a bit. Back to middle school.

Not exactly twelve mind you. But you know the general age. The age of braces and extreme immaturity. Of cliques and bullies and being left out. Of shaving your legs and going through puberty. Of all the insecurities of life thrown at you at once.

I definitely still see the girl in the photos above in my mind. That's how I feel. All arms and legs. Incredibly horrible hair styles. Braces. Gangly. Gawky. Tomboy. I feel that way now even though it's been nearly twenty years since I truly looked like that.

What about you? Do you still think of yourself as an immature middle schooler? When you get into a spat with a friend or pull on an outfit that looks funny, does it make you flash back to the days of not getting invited to the birthday party or feeling like you annoy everyone?

In my case, I was a good kid. And I had friends. But I had one girl in particular that decided she didn't like me. She tried to get the other kids not to like me. She made fun of me and the fact that I didn't have as much money as the other kids at our Christian school. (I went there since my Dad worked there.) I developed a complex. I started to continually worry if people were mad at me. I would do anything so that people would like me. I would give this girl answers on tests. (And then tell on myself later -- I've never been good with guilt.) Everything I did was in an attempt to get other people to think I was okay. That I fit in. And yet I never felt like I did.

I was lucky. Starting in eighth grade, I began playing varsity basketball and became friends with a group of older girls who were past the pettiness of middle school. They stood up for me and cornered my "bully" behind the gymnasium one day to "instruct" her that she was not allowed to make fun of me ever again. That bully came up to me, crying, and repeated what they had told her. She'd leave me alone.

And she did. From that day forward, I began to fit in more and not struggle as much. But I don't think I ever quit feeling, deep inside, the way I felt back in seventh grade. To this day I worry what people think of me. I fight social anxiety. I picture people whispering behind my back, "Hey see that tall girl there! What a freak."

So here's to reminding ourselves that even if we still think we look like we are in middle school, we are grown-ups. And God, could care less what we look like. He can use anyone. Even a Jewish girl in a Persian empire.

P.S. Happy birthday Rachel! And happy anniversary Philip and Joia!