The overflow of the heart

(Today, I am going to stand out on a limb and post a piece of personal writing. For several months I've been praying about the possibility of being a freelance writer. And for years I felt the God guiding me to share some of my life lessons with others through writing and to use my writing talents to minister. Almost two years ago I wrote the story below. It comes from some high school experiences. I share it now because what I have learned through those experiences has actually made a positive impact on my life. I still want to edit the story but I am thinking of working on it to send to a magazine one day. Let me know what you think.- Angela)

The burst of cool air was the only refreshment I felt when entering the auditorium. Anxiety over which puce plastic chair to choose overwhelmed me. I was careful not to sit near the “in crowd,” as I knew I was not welcomed. It was also important for me to not sit anywhere I could be spotted by class comedians, “Clown-Around Cal” and “Sarcastic Sam”, for I was their favorite target. Sitting near those who flew under the radar was also out of the question because my presence could make them victims. I resigned myself to a chair close to the back of the room and near an aisle. If a quick escape needed to be made, I was sure to be ready.

“Today is the first day of the rest of your lives and when you are old, you’ll remember the next four years as your days of glory,” said high school guidance counselor Mr. D.

My life has got to get better than this, I thought as I crossed my legs and slumped forward, hoping not to be noticed.

Growing up in a small Northern town, I attended 13 years of school with the same kids. Those who shared crayons and blocks with me in Kindergarten became those who hurled insults and food at me from the fourth-grade until close to graduation. I identified with underdog characters in Hollywood coming of age movies like “Lucas,” “Can’t Buy Me Love,” “Pretty in Pink,” and “Never Been Kissed.” You know the movie, there’s always at least one kid who stands out like a blue velvet tuxedo complete with ruffled shirt. In my high school, I was one of those kids, president of the dweeb squad. Only for me, there was no day of redemption. No tearful apologies, no dream date to the prom, no first kiss after a football game, and no convicting speeches given in the cafeteria that ended with thunderous applause and a renewed spirit of unity.

I spent most of my time trying to fix myself. I would wonder what was wrong with me and then go to extremes to amputate the culprit. I stopped wearing my glasses. I lost more and more weight until my size one jeans were loose around my waist. I even tried altering my name from "Angie" To "Ang" and then "Angela." Since trying hard not to be noticed didn’t stop the verbal barrage, I tried to earn approval by excelling. I worked hard in school and earned leadership positions in various student activities. I joined the drama team and co-starred in plays. I even volunteered to serve on several outreach projects, after all, how could “they” hate someone who is good to others, I reasoned. I even tried to bargain to those who bullied with their lips; for exchange of just one day free of scorn I would do their English homework or clean their lockers.

Despite my efforts, daydreams, prayers, and pleas, the teasing didn’t end, not even for a day, not even for an hour. Books were still thrown off my desk, signs that read “I’m a dork” were taped to my back, feet continued to trip me as I walked to the front of the classroom, and worst of all, taunts echoed in my ears and in my heart.

I graduated high school with two goals: Number one: Get as far away from that town as possible; and, number two, find out what was wrong with me.

My life took a turn for the better at the Christian college I attended. It was there when the Lord provided me with friendships that last still to this day. Friendships that have drawn me closer to understanding the character and love of Jesus.

After college graduation, I moved to Orlando, Florida to pursue a career in public relations. This is a move that can be credited only to the grace and love of God. It was in Orlando where I continued to blossom into the woman God created me to be. There were many moments that can be written about, but one, very simple moment had a significant impact on my future.

My roommate and I were hosting a gathering of church friends and the subject of high school reunions was broached as several yearbooks were passed around. I mentioned that my fifth-year reunion was just around the corner and I had no intention of returning for the festivities. When asked to explain my strong feelings about skipping the reunion, I briefly shared that I was the local outcast. My friend Eric, raised his eyebrow and incredulously questions “You?” “Kids made fun of you?” When I confirmed his suspicion, I braced myself for his next questions. Here it comes, I thought, he’s going to ask me what was wrong with me back then. When Eric started his question, I cringed, because it seemed like he was going where I thought he would go…only he didn’t. Instead, he shook his head and emphatically spat out the words “What was wrong with THEM?”

I gasped and it took every ounce of pride I had to refrain from leaping into Eric’s arms and hugging his Alabama neck. It was then sitting on the living room floor of my first adult home when the truth behind the ugliness of high school finally pierced my heart. There wasn’t anything wrong with me. Sure, I had gone through a gawky phase. I walked funny in elementary school, and I made my share of social faux pas; but I did nothing to warrant the harassment I received. There was nothing wrong with me. There was, however, something wrong inside the hearts of my tormentors. Whether it was fear, insecurities, anger, grief, or pride, there was something wrong in their lives that enabled or propelled them to wound another individual.

It hurts to admit this, but there have been many times in my life when my words were no cleaner than the words spoken to me by my high school nemeses. Matthew 12:34 states “For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.”

So every time I speak a harsh word to my husband in the heat of an argument, every time I let a sarcastic comment slip out in a moment of frustration, every time I bellow in anger in the presence of my young daughter, in those moments there is something wrong with me, because there is something wrong with my heart. Regardless of how provoked or justified I may feel, I am still responsible for my own words. Words that I know are not easily forgotten.