Wonderfully Made

(Vanessa Kay Frisinger - Briomag)

“Give me a call this summer. We’ll play tennis or something,” Mari yelled through the busted window of her brother’s Honda.

I waved and climbed into our white minivan, clutching a yearbook full of phone numbers and LYLASs and BFFs and inside jokes. The crowd at our lunch table had been
especially loud that day, everyone saying goodbye until next school year and planning summer get-togethers. I never would’ve guessed the end of my freshman year would’ve ended like this. After all, it hadn’t started out so great.

It All Started When...

The summer before my first year of high school had been tumultuous, but not bad. My dad had left his job as a youth pastor in our hometown to start a church 200 miles away. Those first three months were so full of new experiences that I didn’t notice how lonely I felt. I took guitar lessons and taught the preschool class at church. I played basketball and volleyball in summer leagues for my new school, which had its own swimming pool and soda machines! The world around me had changed, and for a while I enjoyed it.

Once school started, however, I realized how alone I felt. I didn’t have anyone in town offering to play tennis with me or go to the mall. Moving meant I’d left behind my friends—girls I’d known since we were babies in the church nursery and classmates with whom I’d started kindergarten. Now, since our church was so new, I was the only one in the youth group. Two other teens came when their parents made them, but they weren’t too interested in going out for pizza after the service.

Well-meaning adults pointed out that I didn’t smile as much as I used to, so I forced a grin no matter how discouraged I felt. It was easier than admitting I worried about things that never bothered me before. I got nauseous before the start of each basketball game, fearing that I wouldn’t be able to sink a shot in front of a crowd. I refused to wear my favorite cartoon T-shirt because a boy in art class called me a baby.

At lunch, I hid in the library. It was better than enduring the noisy cafeteria, where I’d have to sit by myself, dipping limp fries into thin ketchup and tolerating the obvious comments. I think things would’ve been easier if I could’ve blended in with the crowd, but that was impossible.

“How’s the weather up there?”
“Hey, Sky-High, can you hear me?”

My parents claimed being abnormally tall was a gift of some sort. Not in high school. Being abnormally tall was just abnormal. In fact, I was not just taller-than-your-average-girl sort of tall. I was 6 feet 2 inches. That’s taller-than-your-average-teacher sort of tall. Even brand new jeans were high-waters on me, and it was tough to tuck my legs under the school desks. All I wanted to do was hide, but that’s impossible when you stand head and shoulders above everyone else in the room.

How Would God Handle This?

I didn’t like feeling out of place. I didn’t like lacking the confidence to eat in the school cafeteria. But I didn’t know how to change. After letting these fears paralyze me for the first half of the year, I decided something had to be done. I decided to go to God with them.

I’d prayed before—when I wanted something. Unfortunately, there was a part of me that still put God and Santa Claus in the same category. I’d asked Him for specific Christmas gifts or the occasional earache to get out of going to school. Alas, no toy ever miraculously appeared under our tree, and the on-demand sickness never materialized. So I wasn’t sure what He could do with this.

I planned to talk to God at night, when my room was dark and quiet. I figured I couldn’t ask to be made shorter; that just didn’t seem like the right sort of request. I wasn’t going to tell God how I really felt, that could be dangerous. He’d probably expect me to grin and bear it (and stop whining). So I decided to keep it simple and respectful and ask if He’d send me a friend.

After waiting for the sounds in the house to quiet down, I sat up in my bed, wrapped my arms around my knees, clenched my teeth against the tears and addressed God. Why don’t I have any friends here? I looked up at the ceiling for a few minutes. All of my resolve melted and my real feelings came rushing out. “I don’t like the way You made me, OK? I don’t like it that I look different from everyone else. Why couldn’t You have just made me so I fit in?”

Tears dropped from my cheeks to my knees. I don’t know what I expected to happen. The darkness in my room was still dark.

The words from Psalm 139:14 started playing over and over in my head; “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” I knew that verse because I’d memorized it in grade school to win a candy bar. I liked the way the words “fearfully and wonderfully” sounded, but I didn’t understand what they meant.

“Fearfully and wonderfully made, fearfully and wonderfully,” I repeated to myself. Hey, I was fearfully and wonderfully made. Me? Yes, all 6 feet and 2 inches! God was pleased with the way He’d made me. In fact, He loved the way He’d made me. He loved me. How exciting to be who I was—wonderfully created by God!

Lunchroom Perspective

The day after this revelation, I decided I needed to hang on to what I’d learned about God and about myself. I filled index cards with verses that encouraged me. Of course, Psalm 139:14 was the first. John 15:5, Proverbs 14:26-27 and Philippians 4:6 all found their way onto separate cards. I used them as bookmarks, tucked them into notebooks and even taped one on my locker. These words reminded me of what I’d learned: I was wonderfully made by God.

The next day at school, I braved the cafeteria. Ignoring tired comments about my height, I grabbed a food tray and scanned the crowd. There was a girl from my math class sitting alone. I almost didn’t approach her, because I thought she might not want to be seen with me. But then I remembered that I was wonderfully made, and she was too, even though she might not know it yet.

I sat with Mari that day. She sat alone, because she was embarrassed of her stutter. I hadn’t even noticed. The next day Mari joined me in line for lunch. “Look, there’s Laura,” Mari said as she pointed to another student from our math class who was reading a book in a corner by herself. We invited Laura to join us.

That’s how our lunch table started. Soon a girl named Kim and her friend, Amy, joined us. It wasn’t long until I looked forward to lunch again.

Before we left for the summer, Mari asked me how I’d found the courage to sit by her earlier in the year. “I guess it was because another Friend of mine reminded me that I was wonderfully made. It helped me not feel so weird.”

“Wonderfully made?”

“Sure,” I grinned, “and you are too!”

Things to Do When You Feel Out of Place

1. Go to God. He’s your Father. And don’t be afraid to tell Him how you really feel. (He already knows, anyway.)

2. Make encouragement cards. When you come across a verse that reminds you who you are in Christ, write it on an index card. Carry the cards with you or put them where you’ll see them often.

3. Talk to your mom or dad. Believe it or not, they were teens once and faced some of the things you’re facing.

4. Encourage someone else. Think of a special friend in your life and send her a thank-you note. Sit next to the girl in your youth group who usually sits alone. Helping someone else is a great way to make friends and strengthen the friendships you have.