What if...
When I was younger I was a geek. Okay, so I'm still a geek. Back then, though, I had no sense of self worth. I knew I was smart, but I thought was all there was to me. I didn't understand that I was also a person.
One Friday night when I was 14 or 15 I went to my friend's church youth group. I never went to my own church’s youth group, but I tagged along with her every so often. This particular night, one of the guys from my school was there. I'll call him Chad – mainly because that's his name and I don't feel imaginative enough to come up with a fake. For some reason, the two of us ran around all evening pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend. I have no idea why; I guess it's just one of those things you do when you feel like stepping out of character.
On Monday morning Chad came up to me and asked me about what had happened. Did I... Was I... What...
A hundred thoughts swirled around in my head. I was so embarrassed for him! I wasn’t embarrassed for myself, but for him. I mean, come on, I was a geek! I was a social outcast. Come to think of it, given the size of the school I was the social outcast. How humiliating would it be for him to be liked by me! Surely his social status would plummet as a result. He would become an outcast by default.
I ran away sincerely believing that my response would be a relief to him, that he would be glad to hear it. I think I believed that for a long time. Now I realise how cruel it actually was. He may very well not have been interested in me, but my response probably crushed (or at least bruised) his fragile teenage ego.
I transferred to a different school after grade 11. I didn’t see again until I was 21. I ran into him a few times at the restaurant where I was working. This time, I’m pretty sure he was hitting on me. Well, now I am. At that point, I still had no clue. Looking back I can see the sparks flying between us, but again nothing happened. He came into the restaurant a few times, but that was it. Then he was gone. Again. A few months later I picked up and moved across the country.
As the years fly past me at what feels like an ever-increasing pace, I find myself wondering. What if… Whenever I go back to Edmonton (something I don’t do very often), I wonder. What if I run into him? If I were granted another chance, would I let it slip through my fingers?
Would I? I wonder. What if?
I’m reading The Hiding Place right now. Corrie ten Boom says there are no what ifs in God’s universe. Part of me knows she’s right.
But what if she’s wrong?
One Friday night when I was 14 or 15 I went to my friend's church youth group. I never went to my own church’s youth group, but I tagged along with her every so often. This particular night, one of the guys from my school was there. I'll call him Chad – mainly because that's his name and I don't feel imaginative enough to come up with a fake. For some reason, the two of us ran around all evening pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend. I have no idea why; I guess it's just one of those things you do when you feel like stepping out of character.
On Monday morning Chad came up to me and asked me about what had happened. Did I... Was I... What...
A hundred thoughts swirled around in my head. I was so embarrassed for him! I wasn’t embarrassed for myself, but for him. I mean, come on, I was a geek! I was a social outcast. Come to think of it, given the size of the school I was the social outcast. How humiliating would it be for him to be liked by me! Surely his social status would plummet as a result. He would become an outcast by default.
I didn’t. It was all just a foolish game. It didn’t mean anything. No… I mean, of course I didn’t… Never… No… It was just silliness… No, of course not…
I ran away sincerely believing that my response would be a relief to him, that he would be glad to hear it. I think I believed that for a long time. Now I realise how cruel it actually was. He may very well not have been interested in me, but my response probably crushed (or at least bruised) his fragile teenage ego.
I transferred to a different school after grade 11. I didn’t see again until I was 21. I ran into him a few times at the restaurant where I was working. This time, I’m pretty sure he was hitting on me. Well, now I am. At that point, I still had no clue. Looking back I can see the sparks flying between us, but again nothing happened. He came into the restaurant a few times, but that was it. Then he was gone. Again. A few months later I picked up and moved across the country.
As the years fly past me at what feels like an ever-increasing pace, I find myself wondering. What if… Whenever I go back to Edmonton (something I don’t do very often), I wonder. What if I run into him? If I were granted another chance, would I let it slip through my fingers?
Would I? I wonder. What if?
I’m reading The Hiding Place right now. Corrie ten Boom says there are no what ifs in God’s universe. Part of me knows she’s right.
But what if she’s wrong?
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