She walked with an air of assurance and the hint of superiority that middle school girls recognize as prestige right off the bat, even if it’s only the first day of school, and you don’t know who the older kids are yet.
Her jeans fit right, and her dark curls perfectly framed her thin face and mouth touched by a mole just like Cindy Crawford’s. She was a year older — a 7th grader — and I was a 6th grader, in a math class too hard for me, working hours every night with my mom to try to figure it out.
The girl sidled close to me smiling and asked if she could see how I got the answer for that equation, and then she wanted to make sure she “got the answers right” and then she was looking at the whole sheet of shown-work before the teacher arrived.
I knew she was using me and my hard work, and I felt small.
I gave up my voice. The one that would have said, do your own algebra, because I wanted her to like me. Desperately. And I wanted her powerful group of friends to like me, too.
I was scared that if I spoke, she would make me feel even smaller, and everyone would see it. That I wasn’t really old enough to be there and that I still wanted to be little, longed to play with Strawberry Shortcake and climb to the top of the jungle gym to giggle.
My big girl is entering sixth grade this fall (though she’ll remain at our K-8 and not head to middle school), and I see her as she gets the details of her school life in order, stacking and sorting her school supplies, checking them against the list, putting hands to something she can hold in the face of shifting emotions and passing periods between subjects and sharing classrooms with bigger kids.
I wonder if she’s feeling a little bit small.
At her age, my smallness felt such a scary thing, and it was always so close at hand, so I gave myself away in lots of little ways as I looked for approval and grades and relationships that told me I mattered, that I was big. In making my life about all them, I shrunk, and it took me years to grow to my actual size again.
Decades later, I’m thinking about all those on the cusp or in the dark or in the corner — those struggling to know their value and worth — that small would not be voicelessness or insignificance, but instead your place on the ground chosen for you. Where little toes dig into sand at mighty ocean’s edge, where a walk across forest floor lingers under the fresh air canopy of holy giants.
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Yeah, not five minutes today (and I’m just getting started), but I am thankful to join with the community of Five Minute Friday where we share individual voices to create a chorus. All are welcome. Today began with the prompt: SMALL.
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Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
Such memories are jogged by your post. Thanks for sharing!. Praying that your post reminds me to look for the ones that need to be valued and give them that.
Melissa
What a great prayer, Melissa. Thank you for that.
Your words are immensely powerful. You are inspiring. Small no more!
Melanie, your photo has joy and spunk written all over it. I have a feeling you’re not living a small life either! :-)
I’m so glad I stopped by from FMF this morning and read this: “Where little toes dig into sand at mighty ocean’s edge, where a walk across forest floor lingers under the fresh air canopy of holy giants.”
I remember those tween years, and just think even more about the verse I was reminded of when writing my own post today: 1 Tim. 4:12, “don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young…”
That verse is such a good reminder. Yes, Kelly. The Bible is filled with reminders for us not-so-youngs-anymore to live more the way children do.
And look how that girl teetering on the edge of adolescence has found HER VOICE! It might seem that in the struggle to find our voices, our words form power and as adult with strong tongues and passion in our bellies, we say what really needs to be said, from deep within.
This is why you write!
You got me. :-) Yes, Angela…those years of not speaking out have formed a fire in my belly for sure. That is indeed why I cannot stop writing, even if I wanted to.
Oh, do I remember the years feeling like that. *Hugs* to both of you.
Thank you for those sweet words. The first day back is today. Blessings to you and yours.
Oh, the Cindy Crawford mole. Wow, that brings back memories. Lovely writing. I was right there and I often think of those years when the circles were so tight and you always seemed to be hanging onto the fringes. On the cusp of fitting in but never belonging. I think it trains you for days, years down the road, to look into the face of that smallness and know that you’ve outgrown it. And to look back at the things that no longer fit and tell others that they’re growing too. I’ve missed you, friend.
oh Alia, how I totally hear you on ‘think of those years when the circles were so tight and you always seemed to be hanging on the fringes’…praying to learn that I’ve outgrown this smallness, and that my worth and ‘bigness’ or worth is found in HIM and who and whose He has made me.
“When the circles were so tight” — oh my, yes. May my girls learn (or not forget) how to keep open spaces, to be people of belonging. You are so right, Alia and Janel. Thank God for the ways we can recognize the tightness of what no longer fits, to know the full stature of our identities in him.
Love this: “It took me years to grow to my actual size again.” I see shades of Alice In Wonderland. Beautiful melding of innocence and wisdom-beyond-her-years insight in this piece. More please!
Alice in Wonderland — just like the wonderful fiction writer in you to see that. You writing these days, friend?
Ashley, no, I have not been writing at all! Thank you for asking/noticing…it was so sweet of you. I had a baby this summer! Words are swirling in my head and heart, but my tired brain has not strung them into actual sentences. Your post on giving yourself permission to create was so inspiring to me; I hope to dust off my blog soon. Thank you for sharing your words and going beyond to reach out. Your posts are jewels in my day. :)
Dear Ashley
This feeling of smallness and inferiority makes us do things we don’t want to do even when we are little ones. To overcome this feeling of smallness is not an easy enemy to get rid of as an adult. I am so grateful for our Pappa’s hand of grace that holds ours with each step we take in the right direction!
Blessings XX
Mia
This is such a journey, is it not? Only grace, only grace. Much love to you.
I can relate as I think about my 6th Grade experience where I was too tall & awkward, & didn’t fit in at all (making me feel soo small)…tripping over hurdles (literally) & trying to stand up to the bully who put my petite friends in a trash can (literally). Not pleasant memories, but I do know God used each & every situation to help shape me into who I am!
I will be praying for your Cici as she enters this new transitional period of life!
Oh, my heart hurts for that sweet 6th grade girl. What an interesting thing you said, Becca, that being tall made you feel so small. Wow. I wish I could have been your friend back in those days, but I’m so thankful none of that pain was wasted. Look at the champion you are now for those who feel small. I love you.
Thanks for this reminder, “At her age, my smallness felt such a scary thing, and it was always so close at hand.” I have one going into middle school and one into 6th grade and this will be their first year in public school. I have forgotten how big those emotions felt at this stage of my life.
It is so easy to forget. And then I think about how often I still allow myself to feel that way — scared of appearing small or insignificant, on the outside of the crowd, without a voice, missing out. Praying for you and your kids during this time of big transition.
Great story…bringing back those middle school memories vividlly…how I wish my girls could just skip over them…but every stage is needed I suppose. Even the ones that suck…kinda like the nine months of puking before the baby in your arms.
Cheers,
I can always count on you to tell it straight, Leah. :-) Yes, I wish my girls could skip it, too….and then I wonder about the deepening strength and character that comes through those challenges. Trying to cling to that part, I suppose.
Oh, such beauty, you sweet poet… “that small would not be voicelessness or insignificance, but instead your place on the ground chosen for you. Where little toes dig into sand at mighty ocean’s edge, where a walk across forest floor lingers under the fresh air canopy of holy giants.” I just want these words to wash over me. And I pray for your big girl, as she enters this new season, that she would not lose her voice in smallness, but continue to grow in confidence and beauty and strength. She has you for a mama, and that is a wonderful gift to help her navigate…
I feel I am continually trying to figure out this “small” thing. I think so many different things about it…and I think you get that, friend. I’m grateful for your prayers. They are so appreciated. Love you.
oh Ashley, how I could picture every moment of this. Oh how I know this. Part of my ‘being small’ meant being a ‘good girl’ and everyone knowing it…although i didn’t flaunt it, it was just known. and I missed out on so much that wasn’t necessarily wrong, i just thought it might put a stain on who I thought i was (or pretended I was, because believe me there was very little confidence in me or anything I stood for) thank you for the reminder friend. that though small can be seemingly something we run from, a proper vision of who we are in this vast creation helps us to better view the amazingness of both is love and care for us, but the insignificance of things formerly deemed so important and life changing.
I absolutely get you on that “good girl” thing, Janel. How that way of feeling “big” in a way, by doing right and being right can end up making you feel wrongly small in the end — without voice and true confidence. I was so worried about what people thought of me that I struggled to know what I thought. Yes to the right picture of small…small IS good when it’s a “proper vision of who we are in this vast creation!”