I received a phone call a couple weeks ago from a high school classmate, one I hadn't heard from in five years.  One who was inviting me to our 25th high school reunion. 

Twenty-five years.  Where has the time gone?

G. was always nice to me during those tumultuous high school years, and while we don't keep in touch very well, I always considered him a friend and enjoyed this opportunity to catch up. Somewhere in our conversation he asked if I planned on attending the reunion in July.  I tried to evade the question best I could, as I didn't want to hurt his feelings.  

Not one to be put off he finally asked, "If you don't come, what will be the reason."  Evading the issue again I simply said, "Well, you know how busy life is.  I just don't know if I'll be able to."  He pushed a little more.  Perhaps he sensed I wasn't being forthright.  Finally I laid it all out.  "G." I said, "Can I be perfectly honest with you?"

"Of course you can."

"Well, the truth is, I don't have 'warm fuzzy' feelings about high school.  There are a few people I liked and wouldn't mind seeing, but overall, I spent most of my high school years feeling inferior and out of place."

There, I said it, to an old classmate even.  G. is an understanding person and could identify with my feelings which we discussed at length before he and I needed to say good-bye.   

I actually felt better.  I think I needed to say that to someone.

The funny thing is, I had no reason to feel "inferior" back in those days.  I was a straight "A" student, Valedictorian of my class, I had friends, I enjoyed the band, and I was even crowned Marion's Junior Miss my senior year.  From all outward appearances I had no reason to feel like I was less important or less valuable than anyone else.  But I did. County

Last week another 10th grader in our area committed suicide.

April 20th marked the 8th anniversary of the Columbine massacre. 

April 16, 2007 created a new dark day for yearly remembrances. 

I have a son in college, and a soon to be 16 year old daughter. 

A "voice from my past" recently called.   

Is it any wonder my thoughts keep returning to my "younger" days?  I can't help but think, if I felt so inferior and out of place when I really had no reason to, what about those young people who do have some ailment, heritage, or failure that sets them apart?    Who will befriend them?  Who will tell them they are made in God's image and should hold their heads high?  Who will build them up and tell them they can do whatever they set their minds to?  Who will offer them hope?  Who will extend the hand of friendship?

I'm very conscientious of these questions as I try to build my children up at home, ever grateful for the opportunity to shape their lives.  But my heart breaks for those with no "cheerleader", no voice of compassion, no spiritual guide.  If no one steps forward for these others, I'm afraid there will be more suicides, more Columbines, more Virginia Techs, a generation of people who don't know there's hope.