31 Days: Pathway to Perseverance - Broken to Blessed

I am not sure why the Lord chose tonight, this night to share this story and to reveal past behind hidden curtain. This night when time is short and emotions are raw, right in the middle of a downright commotion.  But here it is, just as the Lord asked me to write, just as it was and maybe in some ways still is.

I don't know if I can really come up with a concrete explanation for it, but from Kindergarten through twelfth grade, I  went to thirteen different schools. Not just thirteen different classes, along with classmates and friends known for years, but literally thirteen different schools.  No, I am not from a military family.  We did move our fair share. My parents both worked two jobs and when I was young, after school child care was unheard of. But mostly, I think it was because I always carried with me this inner sense that I was broken somehow.

Always being the new kid was extremely hard for me. Although I managed to keep my grades up, socially I was a wreck.  I was overweight and quiet, often a natural target for bullies.  In my earliest days, even my teachers did not understand me. I had a creative side. One that was celebrated in my family, but not by my teachers. I was musical and I loved to write, two gifts not considered at all academic at the time.  I remember a second grade teacher who set me outside of the door on a timeout chair during music class every day. She said that my voice was too mature for my age and if I refused to sing like a child, like the other children, then I was not welcome in class. Broken.

I remember fifth grade really well. I had a teacher that I really loved. He seemed to appreciate my specific gifts and his classes were interesting and fun.  I really wanted to stay in class and do well, but by that time my classroom anxiety was at a steady increase and most days I went home feeling sick or couldn’t go at all. More school changes. More anxiety. By my junior year in high school, I transitioned to a home study program. I graduated with a class of 250 people who didn’t know me. My good GPA meant nothing to me. I would never, could never become the first college graduate in my family.

There were no traces of my troubled school self when I went to work. I loved to work, I still love to work. Somehow, the environment or the fact that there was more room for creative processes made work a place of freedom for me. I excelled and I was (am) thankful. Yet, the dream to obtain a college degree never died.  

I worked in the education field. I celebrated with young children graduating from middle school, making their way to high school and later in my career, I worked in higher education.  I saw it for real, every day.  People, crossing the platform to grasp the golden ticket, the degree I always wanted. The dream I believe God placed on my heart. 

Nearly a life time of years passed since my high school days and I found myself back in the classroom.  Just one class at a time at the local community college began to pave the path to my ultimate goal. It was a slow but steady progress. Then, a change at work provided access to an online bachelor's degree program. In 2014,  I graduated Magna Cum Laude with a degree in Applied Psychology. My dream was realized. 

It took much more than maturity to transform from a child who couldn't step foot into a classroom to a woman with a college degree.  It took a miracle.  It was a daily process. God dangled the dream in front of my eyes like a carrot, carved it on my heart and then he made it possible. 

Broken to Blessed. 

Photo Credit:  https://divinewalls.com/mark-10-27