A Special Reunion

When I think about Christ's persecution, the closest situation I can come to in my own life in comparison to how He must have felt is in the days of my youth, especially 8th grade. It was the year my family moved to Punxsutawney, Pa., where my father took on a new appointment at the First United Methodist Church. This was a difficult year for me as I was just getting use to junior high school only to have to pack all my things, leave all my friends and move to a new community.

As a shy pre-teen, I wasn't the most accepted as the preacher's kid in school. In addition, the clothes I wore weren't the most up-to-date styles. When the girls in my homeroom class snickered as I walked by, I would just plead with the Lord that He would bring this agony to an end. I remember my faith becoming stronger at that time as I had not made many friends. I would silently talk to God to get through the day and hope that no one would say any more rude comments to me. While talking with my mom about my situation, she kept reminding me that things would work out some day, especially if I trusted the Lord.

Eventually, life DID get better by the time I entered high school. I met wonderful friends and actually looked forward to school every day. In addition, I was able to take on a part-time organist position at my church, which did wonders for my self-esteem.

Ten years later, I attended my high school reunion. The same girls who made fun of my outfits in 8th grade were in their clique again in the corner of the room. I sat at the table with all the "single girls" and reminisced about high school. One of the guys I vaguely remembered walked toward me and started to talk to me about how he admired my piano playing in the "Girl's Double Trio." He was part of the "in crowd," and his name was Mike.

He learned via the alumni directory that I lived near him in Virginia prior to approaching me at the reunion. We exchanged e-mail addresses before we left. Eventually, we talked on the phone and set up our first date. One of the things we did was dig out the yearbook of our senior year and go through all the people in our class. He seemed to know what a good many of our classmates were doing; some of their stories were surprising to me. We felt lucky to accomplish what we had so far. It soon became obvious to me that despite my difficulty in 8th grade, God had a purpose in transferring my dad to the little town of Punxsutawney in 1983. This was the place where I would eventually meet my husband Mike. Since then the lesson in Romans 8:28 has become a lot more real to me as I witness the goodness of our Lord in so many areas of my life.

— Michele Bair

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist