I’m Heading to My Class Reunion—I Think
The call came. “Are you going to our class reunion?” The dread I felt manifested as a groan of sorts. It wasn’t that I didn’t like those I’d gone to school with, I did. And for the most part, I think they liked me. So, what was it?
I’d been pondering it for weeks when I received a text asking me not only if I was going, but what I was going to wear. A wave of relief washed over as I knew at that moment, I wasn’t the only one concerned about the outward appearance. As I glanced in the mirror, I wondered if the years had been kinder to others, or if they, too, have a few fine lines redefining. Vanity, vanity, all things are vanity from Ecclesiastes 1:2 released insecurities at such a time as this. The introvert within preferring a few at a time surfaced big time. Whatever takes place besides eating with the group takes on a life all its own and the unpredictability of the gathering sort of made my stomach churn. Speaking of eating. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to that either as it seemed to be the perfect time for the fine lines to make an appearance—right when I’m smacking away.
Speaking of smacking away, I must remember to close my mouth when chewing. My children have been kind enough to point out that apparently, my mouth remains open at times while chewing. Oh my, maybe I’d better forego the food altogether.
The other day, an invitation for an event came in for the same weekend as the reunion. I almost accepted. However, as I had already committed, I thought it best to follow through. I suppose the dread comes from someplace in the memory banks and I tried to ponder what that might be. Suddenly, a thought came roaring back from years back. After being out of High School for a few years, I had returned home only to run into an acquaintance. Her response upon seeing me was rather unique. “Kathy? Boy have you changed!” And with that, she turned and walked away. Not so much as a, “How are you doing?” Or, “Good to see you.” Just a blunt turn and off she went.
I didn’t engage in the exchange, but I wanted to. I wanted to follow her, tap her on the shoulder and say, “Boy—you sure haven’t!” Somehow, I let it go. However, after recalling the incident, perhaps this episode links itself to the bigger question. Will it be safe? Will it be a safe environment to walk into? After pondering that thought, I knew what I needed to do.
What is it I needed to do? I needed to go back to the class reunion and intentionally make it safe for others who are having the same flood of feelings wash over them in much the same way.
Creating a safe space for others to enter in perhaps is the goal for all of life. Offering a gentle space of grace for others to enter in represents the deepest of all foundations— “In Him my hope”—proclaims Psalm 62:5. I pray when one announces, “Boy, have you changed!”, I may graciously offer it up by responding in kind, “Thank you. It is not me, but He.”
Psalm 62:5-6 proclaims the firm foundation from which we launch. “For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.” Amen.
