So now ya'll know from my previous post, the reason I "got saved".
A friend even commented, "Thank goodness for that cute, little boy" which was so funny because I hadn't even thought about it from that perspective. I was just feeling guilty for the reason I had "become a Christian" which didn't seem very christian-y at all. But I guess it got the job done so thank goodness for that cute, little boy.
I took my new Christian membership as serious as a six year old could. In my spare time when I wasn't mooning over all the boys, I followed the rules, felt guilt when I didn't follow the rules, learned my Bible stories, and memorized my verses and catechisms.
I was a good, little girl, thank you very much.
One thing my Southern Baptist Sunday school and Christian private school were exceptional at was teaching by way of making everything a competition.
So even though I saw myself as an extremely shy, introvert, I was super competitive. I loved having the "right" answer on Sunday mornings, or being the first to find the Bible verse during "sword drills", or being the fastest to rattle off a memorized verse or the order of the Books of the Bible.
Heck, I wanted to win, gosh darn it! (See what a good Christian I am? I didn't even write "Hell" or "G-d damn it!")
I always felt I had an edge, too, since I attended that Christian private school in between Sundays. Not all of those other little Christian sinners had that advantage - those poor depraved souls. I had daily little competitions to ready me for the big, real competitions on Sundays.
And funny thing, I didn't even care if I beat the boys. In fact, I wanted to beat the boys (which, looking back, may have done me a disservice in my quest to get the kind of attention I wanted from them.)
Oh well. C'est la vie. I did love to win because winning came with attention.
Notice me. Appreciate me. Love me.
*************
Back to my trip through Texas from a few weeks ago. I know everyone is waiting with bated breath for it's continuation. Besides the trip through Texas has been responsible for dredging up all these old memories regarding my "salvation" and early "Christian walk". I had a lot of time to reminisce while in that van.
(In case you are wondering, I am putting a lot of the christian-y words in "quotes" because if you did not grow up Southern Baptist or in the Bible belt, you may need to google them to understand the lingo. It was a secret society of sorts. I did not realize as a kid that not everyone understood our magic words.)
The whole reason we were even driving though Texas was because my dad had purchased a bunch of old antique radios from an online auction months back and shipping them would have been really expensive. He mentioned he was planning a road trip to go pick them up.
So I said, well hey, if you are willing to go all the way to Mississippi to get that family sewing machine Aunt Barbara wants to hand down to me, then I'll go with you and help you drive.
And then, wouldn't you know it, all of a sudden my brother decided he was coming with us "because God told him to". I didn't realize God could give you FOMO (fear of missing out) - ha ha, wink wink!
Yep, it was looking to be a remake of one of our classic Scott family vacations, but without mom, obviously. (Don't worry, I made up for her not being there. But that's another story.)
We all flew together to New Orleans and then drove to Mississippi. After a couple of nights with my aunt and with a full schedule ahead including picking up a gazillion antique radios somewhere along the way, we left early for our return trip after a couple of nights in Mississippi.
According to dad's itinerary, we'd be in the Dallas area overnight. I made plans to meet up with 3 different friends; my oldest friend from childhood, a junior high/high school friend, and a newer special needs mom friend I'd made within the last few years.
I took the first shift driving since I was the eldest sibling, had drunk a bunch of coffee, and called it first. (Dad had previously announced that since both my brother and I were there, he was not driving at all; we were totally fine with that.)
I pulled into the parking lot of Cracker Barrel for a late lunch and where we were meeting up with my first and longest friend from childhood.
She was the same as always. She looked the same, she sounded the same. All the reasons I loved and adored her and still do came rushing back as we tentatively embraced (because Covid) with our heads turned to the side (because Covid).
And then...I instantly reverted into a shy, introverted little girl; her long, lost shadow. Just grateful that she allowed me to be in her vivacious, bubbly presence; that she willingly called me a best friend.
That is the exact opposite of how it was going to go in my head. I had planned on showing her that I had grown up and could be vivacious and bubbly, too! I anticipated us talking loudly over one another as we got caught up in person (we already keep in touch through FB).
Instead I found myself sitting quietly while she (along with my brother and his stories) entertained us with story after story of her kids and beautiful life. She's an amazing story teller because she's able to take the mundane and turn it into a showpiece. We spent most of the lunch hour laughing even though after we left I wanted to cry with regret.
After taking stock of myself (because I'm a grown up now and that's what grown ups do), I realized that my inner little girl, the one I had excused back then as shy and introverted and a shadow, that my inner little girl had wanted attention. She wanted to be the one in the center; in the light, not in the shadows. And she still wants it.
I want it.
It makes me realize why now at almost 50, I'm so desperately trying to prove to people I can be funny, I can entertain, I can tell stories.
Notice me. Appreciate me. Love me, too.
************
I recently finished reading "Writing Down The Bones" by Natalie Goldberg. She talks about recording "first thoughts" as a writing practice. It's basically a stream of consciousness way of writing; throwing thoughts down on the page without going back and editing as you write; getting what's in your head out of your head as fast as possible.
I don't think she necessarily intends for "first thoughts" to be published. I think she means for the practice to be an idea generator for future more edited pieces; although she does describe occasional instances where what she writes in her "first thoughts" is too good not to share.
I realized after reading her book that what I "publish" here on my blog is pretty much "first thoughts"; thoughts that probably need and should be edited to make cohesive sense. But y'all know now I'm way too impatient. I just love to hit that publish button as soon as I get most of the grammar and punctuation correct.
Because of this "throwing caution to the wind" and writing whatever comes into my head, I suppose it explains why my plan to describe my joy at meeting my friend for a brief lunch side-railed into a full blown therapy session. (And I'm assuming that as adults we all understand none of this is commentary about her, and all of this is about me and my perceptions about myself? Ok, good.)
And I suppose there are also chances that a "first thoughts" blog post today may contradict another post tomorrow based on how my brain decides to view the world at any given moment.
Well. So be it. Hopefully some editor comes along and pulls it all together in the end when I'm ready to finalize and publish my memoir. (Ha, ha. Just thought I'd keep putting that out in the universe in case that's how these things work.)
