Middle School Gym

As months of searching for a call have passed, I've had oodles and oodles of time to think. I've decided that searching for a call is a bit like being picked for a team in middle school gym class. One of many metaphors I'm sure...I think this one fits well.

There we all stand, on the baseline of the gym basketball court, preteen and awkward. Everyone thinks they are the only awkward one, but in middle school, everyone is awkward...not quite sure where their next step will take them, much like seminary graduates. In the process of picking teams...the jocks go first. The white males...particularly the married ones and especially the married ones with children. Everyone knows they play sports. You can just tell from looking at them that they've got what it takes. They are the societal norm. They've got the brand name clothes, new sneakers and a fancy robe to wear. Maybe even two or more robes to choose from. Next go the popular kids. The boys who might not be on a sports team, but still have a family. The girls who have all the things a girl is supposed to...like a man in her life and maybe some children. Still looking pretty good with their stylish gym shorts and clerical collars. Then there are some who've made a deal. They are friends with the right people or too scared to be the one left standing on the line all alone...so they've secured themselves a spot on the team. They've gotten a job that may not be their call, but who cares...they wouldn't be caught dead still standing on that line at the end of August. Or someone they are connected with held that spot for them until they were ready. And then there are a few left on the baseline...hands behind their backs, heads down, maybe drawing on the gym floor with their foot. They have hand-me-down gym clothes or maybe no gym clothes at all and so they are the one who has to wear sneakers with their school clothes. No fancy robe to speak of here. They feel all alone because they stand so far apart on that line, each forgetting that the others are there. Often they are the less than popular girls, the rebels, the single ones, the girls no one understands unless they take some time to know them. Inside, each one is thinking, 'pick me, please pick me, I don't want to be the last one...pick me.' Slowly they go. Each one noticing when someone else is picked. Each one wondering, 'why her and not me?' or 'what did she do right that I'm doing wrong?' You want to be excited for each one who gets picked, but it's hard when you are left standing alone. These last few kids continue to wait and wait and wait. They wait and wait as time passes without apology.

I'm one of the few left to wait on the baseline, wondering when I'll be picked and who will take me in. I'm the girl who forgot her gym clothes, no robe to speak of...standing there in my regular old clothes with sneakers on. But today I can say, my head is not hanging low. It's been a week since I had a very promising phone interview with an amazing church. So now I am standing on the line, screaming to this particular church and to God, 'PICK ME! PICK ME!' just hoping they will listen...hoping so deeply this will be it.

It's not a perfect metaphor. Maybe though it will help someone else to know they are not the only one left standing on the baseline. I'm with you. I know the waiting is hard. But God is with you. And I am with you. Awkwardness, hope and all.