You see, one member of my high school class began to find, through Facebook and other social networking sites, other members of the class--people I knew long ago, most of whom I haven't thought of in years.
In fact, I was one of those "lost" members that lurk in every alumni association. I had walked out after graduation, determined to get out of town, to do something different, to be someone else--someone that wasn't the despised, insecure high school dweeb. And I thought that was original, when really, it's the story of almost every teenager, everywhere. So I didn't think about high school, or about the people there, for many years. Until a couple of things happened--first, I got an alumni newsletter addressed to Chris Larsen, someone from some other class, some other year. (I suspect that the search abilities of the internet at that time were not quite at the level they are now) However, in an act of kindness--I mean, perhaps the unknown Chris Larsen really needed the information in that newsletter--I returned it with an explanation, and of course, then I entered the data banks of the "found". Secondly, I had entered into my lengthy debate with God over who I was, and what I was supposed to be doing with my life. Ministry was definitely not part of the way I perceived myself. This necessitated a review of who I was, where I had come from, where I was going. I checked the web for Classmates, found a few people I had known, contacted a couple, engaged one night in a glass-well, really more of a bottle of wine--and made a fool of myself trying to reconcile the life that I lived, the person I had become, with where I had been. To anyone reading this who received one of those emails, I sincerely, sincerely, sincerely apologize.
Obviously, God won the argument, and, against all my own perceptions of myself and my gifts, I became the Reverend Shelby Larsen. Then came Facebook, and contact with so many people from my teenage years.
What I discovered was that they had memories of high school, and of me, and of events where our lives crossed that were certainly different from my own memories and interpretations. Where I saw a weakling, one friend saw a "gentle personality". (Incidentally, everyone I've related that to has the same reaction--did they know you? because no one who knows me now would use the word gentle) And yet, I was very sensitive. I've heard that all my life--Shelby, you're too sensitive. And this particular friend saw that part of me. Others recalled "confidence". I remember having absolutely none. One even said "intimidating". Me? I felt like I was the most picked upon person in the class.
And I wonder how many people have similar experiences? How many feel unconfident, picked upon, ignored, dismissed? If popular culture is any guide, it's not an uncommon condition among teens.Despite my self centeredness, I was undoubtedly not the only one in my class who had that view of self.
So am I sorry that I may have misread some of my high school years? Do I feel I lost opportunities?
No, and no, and no. In the first place, I'm fairly sure that I was not sensitive, confident, or intimidating all the time. I know that there was a lot of dweeb, or geek, or dork, or just plain stupidness in my behavior. And secondly, I have come to accept what seems at time to be a platitude: that we are the sum of all of our experiences. I have not come to where I am easily, or lightly. And I still have many failings in my dealings with others, and with myself. But I'm not as hard on myself, because, frankly, we're all in the same boat. So who am I? Not who I thought I was, and probably not who I think I am, and not who I eventually will be. Just who God made me.
