(I found this post I had written some time ago, but not surprisingly, I had not been able to figure out how to post it until I got some refresher instructions from my daughter).
I really detest most yard work, genetically passed on from my dad who hated it with a passion. There is, however, one activity associated with a yard that gives me much satisfaction. It is the job of pruning bushes. Living in the lush East, bushes and trees grow quickly and voraciously so pruning must be done frequently and aggressively. I really love taking those loppers in hand and chopping off the errant branches and small "suckers" which have spontaneously sprouted. There is some immediate gratification as I view all the cut limbs on the ground surrounding a bush with a new haircut. I love seeing the result of a well-defined bush or tree, although most often the final product won't appear for several weeks. As a matter of fact, often the freshly cut bush looks rather stark and even funny. Being driven by production-oriented, tangible goals, I suppose I enjoy the pruning because I can quickly see the fruits of my labor, for better or for worse. When I exercise patience, and wait for a little time to pass, the result is even more gratifying.
For the past few days I have been cutting and chopping to my heart's content in our back yard. As I have been working, my thoughts have turned to a talk I have read several times called "The Current Bush". It is an excellent discourse on why God allows adversity to come into our lives. In the story, a little current bush asks why the caretaker is so aggressive in cutting back his branches. The "Lord" of the House kindly explains that the pain is necessary in order for the further growth and health of the bush. As I have thought about this talk, I have wondered if God feels the same satisfaction when He "prunes"us as I do as I prune my backyard bushes. He knows that our temporary pain will bring glorious results. Immediately following an aggressive pruning we, too, will sometimes appear bare, vulnerable, and a little beaten down. Before long, however, we will be better than we could have ever imagined.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
It's how you play the game? I don't think so.
I read a blog post of a dear friend the other day and it prompted some thoughts of a loss I suffered centuries ago. I believe I was in the seventh grade, and since my birthday is in the fall, I was a young 7th grader. I was feeling desperate to be accepted by my peers. Not being particularly out-going or flirty, I decided that one way to achieve my desires was to become a cheerleader. These girls were always popular with the boys and envied by other non-flirty, nondescript girls, like me. They didn't seem to have to try very hard either. This was the way to go.
In my middle school, called a junior high at the time, cheerleaders were chosen by a panel of "judges", consisting of several teachers, the vice principal and, I think, the class presidents of each of the three grades. Prospective candidates received some instruction for a few days by other cheerleaders and a woman P.E. teacher. Everyone learned the same short routine which was performed on the last day of try-outs in front of the judges. These were the days of bouncy, cutesy cheerleaders- no gymnastic moves required, just lots of enthusiasm, a big smile, and it turns out, blonde hair. I thought I had a chance, except no one told me about the hair color part.
There was only one other girl who attended the same church that I did, and it seemed she was constantly my nemesis. When there was an youth activity at church, she was there, flirting with the older boys and making friends with the High Schoolers. It didn't help that she had a gorgeous older sister, also very popular, who included her little sister in her high school crowd. And wouldn't you know this competitor had blonde hair, she was smiley and out-going, and her name ended with "Jo", a real plus for 12 and 13 year old girls at the time.
The first day of try-outs, much to my dismay, ____Jo was there! I remember thinking to myself, "Why does she want to be a cheerleader? She already has the status we all seek." And I admit I secretly hoped she'd sprain an ankle. Of course she quickly learned the routine, and of course, all the other participants loved her, as did the teacher. I was livid.
On the day of try-outs, I was the second-to-last to perform for the judges. I thought I did a decent job: I remembered to constantly smile the biggest, cheesiest smile I could muster, and I was as bouncy and cutesy as anyone. But the stars were not lined up in my favor. ____Jo was after me. Yes, she wowed them all.
Each judge gave points for certain items they felt particularly important, (and I am certain hair color was one of them). It was the ridiculous custom to call out the winners in front of everyone, giving the number of points earned by each contestant. Other girls' names were called, beginning with those who had earned the most points. After the expected squeals, tears, hugs, and laughter, everyone moved aside. There was just one spot on the squad left. The air was tense, ____Jo and I held our breaths, and then, of course, her name was called. Just one point separated us. She gave me a little "Sorry" and hopped off to join the other winners, who, if I remember correctly, all had long blond hair.
This experience was a life-changer for me, at least in my junior-high life. I walked home alone (who hangs around a loser?) and spent the evening in my bedroom convinced that I would never amount to anything. For the next couple of years I hated all cheerleaders and would not participate in the cheers they led at games. In fact, I tried to become the opposite of all that was bouncy, cutesy, or blondish. I believe I even died my hair black for a time. Anyone who says, "It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game" really does not understand the mind of a middle school girl.
Thankfully, time was a healer, and while never a close friend of _____Jo, I did forgive her for earning that one more point. While the jury is still out, I do believe I ended up a pretty decent individual with some admirable achievements. I mean, I did win the 7th grade science fair didn't I?
In my middle school, called a junior high at the time, cheerleaders were chosen by a panel of "judges", consisting of several teachers, the vice principal and, I think, the class presidents of each of the three grades. Prospective candidates received some instruction for a few days by other cheerleaders and a woman P.E. teacher. Everyone learned the same short routine which was performed on the last day of try-outs in front of the judges. These were the days of bouncy, cutesy cheerleaders- no gymnastic moves required, just lots of enthusiasm, a big smile, and it turns out, blonde hair. I thought I had a chance, except no one told me about the hair color part.
There was only one other girl who attended the same church that I did, and it seemed she was constantly my nemesis. When there was an youth activity at church, she was there, flirting with the older boys and making friends with the High Schoolers. It didn't help that she had a gorgeous older sister, also very popular, who included her little sister in her high school crowd. And wouldn't you know this competitor had blonde hair, she was smiley and out-going, and her name ended with "Jo", a real plus for 12 and 13 year old girls at the time.
The first day of try-outs, much to my dismay, ____Jo was there! I remember thinking to myself, "Why does she want to be a cheerleader? She already has the status we all seek." And I admit I secretly hoped she'd sprain an ankle. Of course she quickly learned the routine, and of course, all the other participants loved her, as did the teacher. I was livid.
On the day of try-outs, I was the second-to-last to perform for the judges. I thought I did a decent job: I remembered to constantly smile the biggest, cheesiest smile I could muster, and I was as bouncy and cutesy as anyone. But the stars were not lined up in my favor. ____Jo was after me. Yes, she wowed them all.
Each judge gave points for certain items they felt particularly important, (and I am certain hair color was one of them). It was the ridiculous custom to call out the winners in front of everyone, giving the number of points earned by each contestant. Other girls' names were called, beginning with those who had earned the most points. After the expected squeals, tears, hugs, and laughter, everyone moved aside. There was just one spot on the squad left. The air was tense, ____Jo and I held our breaths, and then, of course, her name was called. Just one point separated us. She gave me a little "Sorry" and hopped off to join the other winners, who, if I remember correctly, all had long blond hair.
This experience was a life-changer for me, at least in my junior-high life. I walked home alone (who hangs around a loser?) and spent the evening in my bedroom convinced that I would never amount to anything. For the next couple of years I hated all cheerleaders and would not participate in the cheers they led at games. In fact, I tried to become the opposite of all that was bouncy, cutesy, or blondish. I believe I even died my hair black for a time. Anyone who says, "It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game" really does not understand the mind of a middle school girl.
Thankfully, time was a healer, and while never a close friend of _____Jo, I did forgive her for earning that one more point. While the jury is still out, I do believe I ended up a pretty decent individual with some admirable achievements. I mean, I did win the 7th grade science fair didn't I?
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