On A Lighter Note: Through Adolescent Angst and Beyond

I wrote some pretty heavy notes last week ("And This Is My Hope," "How Pornography Has Affected Me," and, "Pornography: A Brief Follow-up"), so I thought that I would share some comic relief today.

I have sitting beside me my beat up, falling apart, dramatic book of poems from elementary, middle, and high school. The outside is brown with bunches of blue flowers. The inside cover says, "This book belongs to Deana. Congradulations. 6-16-91." It was given to me by my middle school Sunday School teacher after I graduated from the 8th grade. The first page of the book reads, "Recorded in the following pages are my thoughts and feeling expressed in poetry." That sentence is written in large (for me) somewhat neat handwriting. It's been neat to watch my handwriting has gotten smaller and messier over the years.

As I've looked through the book of the poems, I've shaken my head at how dramatic I was--how friendships and loves and hurts were so urgent--how much I was searching and questioning and looking to find my own voice. I've been embarrassed by some of the words I penned, but I've, too, at how wise I was without knowing it...and how young I was when I began to develop my own faith...and how many things that I wrote then I could have written now...without the help of rhythmic schemes of course :-).

But. For the sake of comedy, I'd like to share with you a poem that I wrote for English class at the beginning of my 7th grade year. It DOES rhyme. And the angst of adolescent regret oozes through its words :-):

"Didn't Do"
I didn't climb a mountain high
or hit someone in the face with a pie.
I didn't get to travel to Spain,
or help fix the window pane.
I didn't finish writing my song,
or beat someone in a game of ping pong.
I didn't get to buy my new bike,
or get a dress that I really like.
But I did seem to bust my chin,
and still come out of the hospital with a grin.
Now it's time to put my shorts away,
and start getting out all the warm clothes that are stored away.
If only I could sleep once again,
instead of going to school and wasting all my pens.

*I smile*

I really did bust my chin that summer. I had a fever of 104.7 and passed out for some reason. The over-night hospital stay never did reveal why, but my chin carries a scar from the experience. And I guess my brain carries an emotional scar from not getting to go to Spain or getting a new dress the summer after my 6th grade year. Who knew that I ever even WANTED to go to Spain or get a new dress! :-)

I am thankful for this journey of life that we are on--for having a God who loves us and friends, colleagues, and family members who walk alongside us as we chart the course...through adolescent angst and beyond!