Remember those golden years of Jr. High? Can you relive in your mind that glorious feeling of approaching a group of “cool kids.” The stomach in knots, the beads of sweat on the forehead, the fear of saying something stupid. Ahh the bliss.
Jr. High was a time of awkwardness, at least for me. Very few people I have spoken with have said, “Oh for the days of Jr. High!” (Read “zero people”). In Jr. High I was never safe. If my voice didn’t betray me, my words did. If my words didn’t, my clothing did. If my clothing didn’t, others did. I was a mess.
I think my Jr. High self is the closest comparison I have found to cultural adaptation. I am awkward. I have yet to learn the social norms and colloquial phrases. I look like an outsider. As soon as I open my mouth, everyone knows I am different. During nearly every interaction I run through the possible ways I could fail:

• Will this person remember me?
• How do I greet this person?
• Do I shake hands or use the Spanish kiss?
• How do I say ____?
• Is it culturally acceptable to talk about this?
• How long should I talk?
• Did I say that correctly?
• Oh no! I wasn’t paying attention to what they just said because I tuned out their Spanish. Now they are looking at me waiting for a response!
• Did I say their name correctly?
• Why are they touching my arm?
• Should we really be standing in the middle of the sidewalk/isle/car lane talking and making everyone wait?
• Oh no! They asked another question and I didn’t understand!
• Etc.

With all this, it may sound like it is torture. Well, was Jr. High torture? Yes. Yes it was. So you would be correct in assuming that.

However, there are a couple redeeming factors.

• My voice doesn’t crack…as much.
• I have mastered the use of deodorant.
• I am already married and very secure in Crystal’s love for me no matter what I wear. And I make sure to test that regularly.
• I am a little more mature.
• And I can smile.

I have found that smiling is a secret weapon. I can say nearly anything I want as long as I say it with a smile. People take what I say in the best possible way if I am smiling, and they know I care, or want to learn, or am genuinely lost.

And I can smile. I can smile because I am secure, not because I have the slightest notion of what I am doing, but because I am eternally loved. I have been accepted into the family of God on the merits of Christ by the work of the Spirit. So I am free to love. I am free to mess up. I am free to learn by trial and error because I am free from the shackles of people-pleasing.
So, it doesn’t matter if I goof up my verb tenses, or botch a greeting, or accidentally say a curse word that sounds really, really close to an ok word…again. I can smile, because I am loved.

To all my Jr. High fears I say, “Bring it on!” (In a slightly squeaky voice)