The Young and The Stupid
The resurgence of the New Kids on the Block has sent me on several trips down Memory Lane. I was a big fan. BIG. My favorite was Danny. *sigh* Actually, the truth must come out. I’ve been harboring this secret for 18 years — my favorite was Joey. At the time, two of my close friends had laid claim to Joey and there was some kind of unspoken rule about liking the same Kid that one of your friends did. (Those two friends didn’t quite run in the same circles then, so the rule remained in tact.) My sister was torn between Donnie and Jon. Another friend liked Jordan. That left Danny. He kind of looked like a horse to me. I did start to feel bad for the guy, he didn’t seem to have as large of a fanbase. So I stuck with him. One of my friends even gave me the Danny doll. When “Step By Step” came out and the video showed him lifting weights, though, I was a happy little teenybopper.
Anyway, I was a ridiculous fan, wearing their t-shirts and wallpapering my room with posters from Bop! magazine, sometimes Tiger Beat. I had their videos memorized, and when I went to their concerts (3 of them), I probably knew their dialogue better than they did. (“Everybody put your hands in the air! And wave ’em like you just don’t care! And if you’re ready to rock with the New Kids on the Block, somebody say OH YEAH!”
My sister will mention this if I don’t — one time when my dad was questioning my sanity devotion, I declared that the New Kids on the Block would be bigger than The Beatles. Yeah, bigger than The Beatles.
I remember those years with something less than fondness. I was a foolish teenage girl. My self-worth was wrapped up in what other people thought of me. Especially boys or, as they were at the time, hormones with legs. If I had a boyfriend, it would prove that I meant something to someone. I had a good home life, I knew my parents loved me, but for some reason that wasn’t enough. Probably because I figured Mom and Dad had to love me, you know?
That way of thinking lasted way too long. I just shake my head at what I was like, and any girls that feel the same way.
When I was 20 I chaperoned a youth trip. It was an overnight trip and we were staying at a hotel. The room I was in would contain 3 cheerleaders. CHEERLEADERS! I was not ready for that. I prepared myself for a night of constant giggling and gossiping. Much to my surprise, I had the pleasure of being around one of the most mature teenagers I’d come in contact with, ever. She was positively beautiful, and very popular. I will never forget a dilemma she had — a boy on the football team had invited her to homecoming, and she was debating if she really wanted to go. She said she didn’t want to go with him and have him think that she wanted to be his girlfriend. I said, “You just don’t like him like that?” I will never forget her answer. I’m sure this isn’t exactly what she said, but the general sentiment was, “Why would I need a boyfriend when I have Jesus?”
This out of the mouth of a 15-year-old girl. I didn’t have that much wisdom at 25.
I don’t know if I would’ve listened to anyone if they’d tried to tell me how off I was when I was 15. Or 16. Or 22. I don’t know if I learned too late or right on time that until I felt complete with my life and understood that the woman God made me was 100% okay, I wasn’t going to be ready for a relationship. Not one that mattered.
God made ME for a purpose. I am positive that a lot of that purpose was to be a wife and a mother, but even before those things were fulfilled, there was a calling for me.
We can miss our calling waiting to be part of something else, and we can limit God by thinking that once we’ve answered one call that we’re all done. He can do a lot with us. Single, married, mommy, He’s got work for us to do.