This Beautiful Inheritance: Small Town Life: The Good of High School

Friday, August 30, 2013

Small Town Life: The Good of High School

My part-time job puts me working in two high schools -- the one I attended (where we live) and the one where my husband went to school (in a neighboring small town).

I'll be honest with you. I did not like high school. There were a number of factors that crashed together to make it quite miserable for me. But still, there were streaks of happiness, ruffled by pom poms, sparked by young love, and illuminated by Friday Night lights.

A few weeks ago, I walked into my high school (before the new year kicked off) to run some errands and talk to administrators. When I entered, the smell of those cream colored hallways nearly knocked me to my knees. Instantly, I was back in 2004, wearing shorts that were too short, painting football banners in my bare feet. My best friends were around me. We'd just returned from cheerleading camp and were looking forward to the new year. We roamed the school like we owned it, practicing and painting daily until school started two weeks later.

The smell was exactly the same.

I breathed it in deep and though the bad times were there, swirling in my sea of memories, they were overshadowed by the carefree days that highlighted those years.

High school was not all bad. Proven to me years later by the good memories that jumped out front when I walked into Memory Lane.

And then yesterday -- I went to the school (where my husband attended). I was standing in the teachers' lounge making copies while several teachers ate lunch, one of whom coached my husband in high school football.

"Tyler still firefighting?" he asked, realizing who I was.

We chatted for a few minutes. I updated him on our lives and how we wound up right back where we started.

And then he said: "Tyler was the most polite and hardest-working kid I ever coached."

And with that, I was right back in the good ole days. Again.

High School Hunnies. Forgive the random streak.
I remembered my polite, "Mr. HHS" boyfriend, who stole my heart and played his out on the football field. I remembered our first dance, when we were still practically strangers, after a Homecoming game. And I remembered being the new girl in a sense, as I got to know his friends and classmates and started coming around more and more.

Those were the good days, their memory now getting brighter against a cloud of others not so kind. Thankfully, that cloud is drifting away with time, and it doesn't lurk over me when I walk back in those buildings.

It's the good that does.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

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