I Don't Think I'm in the Right Place

This morning, while drinking my coffee, I found myself thinking about a memory from my childhood. I wouldn't call it a traumatic memory. It isn't one of those painful experiences that demands attention.

It feels more like another ingredient in the Recipe of my Life; a Special Seasoning that helped make me who I am.

Still, as I thought about it, tears came to my eyes. Not because I was reliving trauma, but because I was seeing something I had not fully recognized before and I was taking ownership of it, a part of myself.

I was in the seventh grade.

By that point, I had already experienced multiple moves. We had gone back and forth

between Costa Rica and the United States several times. Finally, I moved from Costa Rica to Pennsylvania in the middle of the seventh grade.

I arrived at a school where no one knew me. There were no records, no history, no context. I was simply dropped into a new environment and expected to adapt. I was like many migrant children, orphans, and kids today who have lived through similar circumstances. I feel fortunate to have been dropped into an environment that allowed me to BE SEEN.

The school itself was remarkable. The huge halls and open classrooms were carpeted. Many of the walls were giant accordion partitions that could open and combine several classrooms into one large learning space. Math and Science classes were in regular rooms and were very interactive. Students were grouped by ability, and the classes were labeled as 7A, 1-4; 7B, 1-4; etc according to grade. Because the school had no records for me, they placed me in the lowest academic group.

I remember sitting in a small history class with about twelve students. Most of the students sat in the back and I was alone in the front. The teacher was a young man with curly blond hair. As he taught, I realized something. I knew what he was talking about! Not only did I recognize it, but I was interested in it. I even raised my hand and participated. I don't really remember learning the information but somehow, I knew it.

After class, I walked up to the teacher. Looking back, I am amazed that I had the courage to do that. I said, "I don't think I'm in the right place." We talked for a few minutes. Soon afterward, I was moved into a different class.

That change made a tremendous difference. I thrived in that school. I made friends. I enjoyed learning. The school offered hands-on experiences, outdoor science classrooms, and opportunities to grow. I did have to move a couple more times after that and there were more adjustments and rebellion followed the last one.

For years, all I took from this memory was the connection to names from history that I would later find in my family tree. I never stopped long enough to consider what this moment revealed about me. That was the extent of my understanding; until now. I am thankful that God has given me another opportunity to revisit this memory and see it with greater Clarity, Compassion, and Grace.

The little girl in my memory had just come through a Season of Instability. She felt alone and no one was counseling her or helping her process what was happening. She wasn't receiving any kind of healthy emotional support and was instead receiving a twisted version of family.

Yet somehow, she found the courage to advocate for herself.

Today, looking back, I realize that little girl wasn't broken. She was emerging out of something inside herself that refused to disappear.

God gifted that little girl with Discernment, Perseverance and Resilience. Today, I acknowledge those Gifts; I Receive them and Claim them as part of who I have always been.

He gave me Courage and Boldness and I'm Proclaiming it, for ALL!

As I continue healing, I find myself looking at old memories differently. Not just the painful ones, but the ordinary ones. The memories that seemed insignificant at the time often reveal important truths about who we are.

They are like Reward Stations along the Path of Life where we can gain Encouragement and Fortification for the Journey Ahead. Kind of like they give us the opportunity to Reassess our Gear and inspect its Readiness for the next Leg of the Climb.

Sometimes healing comes from revisiting difficult experiences.

Sometimes it comes from recognizing strengths we never noticed before.

Sometimes it comes from simply seeing ourselves clearly.

When I look back at that thirteen-year-old girl, I see someone who knew she was in the wrong place. And she spoke up.

"I don't think I'm in the right place."

In many ways, that sentence has echoed throughout my life.

And perhaps God has been using it all along to guide me toward where I am meant to be!

Nothing is Wasted when the Grace of God is your Frame,

for such a time as this...

clm

Grace Colored Glasses