Coming Full Circle

When I was in the seventh grade, going into the eighth, I tried out for cheerleading.  My mother was a cheerleader in high school, and I used to gaze at her old yearbooks.  There was a shot or two of her jumping, yelling, smiling... generally being attractive and well liked.  Her squad got to wear cute outfits, and they always seemed so friendly and peppy in the pictures.  It must've seeped into my brain.  And although she never fed my notions, I was firmly establishing in my mind what it was to be beautiful, popular, and... a c-h-e-e-r-l-e-a-d-e-r.  I so wanted to be one, too, in the seventh grade, soon to be eighth.

First of all, although it may've seemed like I had all the right genes, I had several things going against me.  I had ridiculously short boy hair.  And at the time, I was trying to grow it out.  To add to that, I had ridiculously unruly curly hair.  Growing out curly hair from short to longer = disaster.  My hair was a little bit pitiful.  Second, I was short and stocky.  I wasn't necessarily strikingly beautiful, and I kind of sensed that about myself.  Cheerleaders are confident.  Things were chipping away at me in the confidence department at that time of my life. 

Me back then.  Oh, this poor thing. 

But, bless my little heart, I tried out.  And I don't remember being terrible or anything.  Life's plan lays itself out though.  I waited with high hopes on that Friday at seventh hour science with a nervous stomach and shaky hands.  In my head, strangely enough, popped the tune and lyrics to "Que Sera, Sera... Whatever will be, will be."  Right there at my desk, I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.  The end of day school bell rang so that we all could go and huddle, squeal, and cry around the list of names that was posted in the gym.  My name wasn't there.  I was absolutely devastated.   I STILL remember all of the words and movements to the try-out cheer.  It was a pitiful page in the Whitney Book. 

BUT.  Life has a funny way of coming full circle, doesn't it?  Let's fast forward some 22 years.  Yesterday, I helped judge the middle school cheerleading try outs.  How ironic.  Bless all those little girls in this gangly, pre-teen, awkward, but critical moment of their lives.  I sat there and tried to smile at every single little scared face.  But some will be heartbroken.  It's inevitable.

I have a message to all the little girls that didn't make it though.  I've been there too.  And I'll give you a sneak peek at the future.  Even though you didn't become a middle school cheerleader, your life is gonna be great.  Even though you didn't make the squad, you'll be an incredible success.  I predict you'll get yourself a great job.  You'll snag yourself a husband that you are sure is the handsomest guy in any room.  You'll have some pretty great kids that make your heart feel like it can't possibly hold any more "happy."  And you'll absolutely LOVE your life. 

And, here's the important part...  it probably wouldn't have turned out quite the same if you HAD become a cheerleader in junior high.  That's something to think about.  And even though you're sad right now, and it doesn't feel like yesterday happened according to your dreams, I guarantee... I guarantee... it did.