Reunion Reminiscences

Okay, so if a reunion is where you go to reminisce, can a 50th high school reunion have its own reminiscences? As usual, I'm ruminating over words. It wouldn't be my blog if I didn't.

By the way, 25 of the 51 original graduates came (many with spouses). At least 6 others who had been with the class at various times, but just not our senior year, were also in attendance. How nice.

I think for the benefit of my friends and family members who follow my blog (anyone still doing that?), I'd like to copy/paste the e-mail I sent out to classmates on Monday (after returning home from the reunion on Sunday). Here 'tis.

Dear Friends,

So, the 50th reunion of the Wyomissing High School Class of 1961 is over. In the history books, so to say. My own journey to this reunion, while fraught with many classic pre-reunion manifestations of anxiety, turned out to be a journey to joy.

I want to write about it, while your voices and images are still fresh. Strange to say – the moment I walked out of the Huyett’s door Sunday morning, I felt a pang of sadness. I truly believe God sent Roger out of that closed door for one more goodbye to relieve some of the pain. Thanks, Roger.

As I started my drive home, I was missing you all already, something I hadn’t honestly done, in the past. It seemed during our hours together that I was making new friends, with familiar vestiges hovering on the edges of conversations and observations. As I drove the seven hours back to my home, family, and current friends, I sensed a lingering heartache. I didn’t have enough time over the weekend to get to know you again, you superb and often zany concoction of men and women.

Did I want to get to know you better? Yes! You were part of my life at a vulnerable, confusing, maelstrom-filled season – adolescence. And now, as I had hoped, you are all grown up. Each one of you seemed to hold a segment of who I was back then. Each one added a new dimension to who I am now, by your life-stories, by the richness of your fully-formed personalities (and the counterpoint provided by your spouses), by your warm welcomes and affirmations.

The only component that would have made this reunion better would have been the presence of more classmates. Yes, Nevin, the turnout was phenomenal. But I missed Linda A., Tina, Karen, Sandy B., Aggie (now Ann), Susan, Cynthia, Cathy, Dee, Jan, Mary, Mary Bell, John, David F., Connie B., Ted, and Bob M. It was nice to hear the e-mailed “greetings” from some of the missing, but not the same as seeing you and getting/giving hugs.

And perhaps my greatest regret was not getting to see Barry, Carol, Rodney (my senior prom date, thanks to Mrs. Knipe), Marilyn (such a splendid friend), Jim S., Spin, Linda T., or Beverly one more time, during the last 50 years. When Char told me who had already died, I was stunned. Then we received news about Rodney’s passing on Sept. 30. So sad.

Okay, I’m going to make myself weepy, if I’m not careful here. Suffice it to say, I enjoyed myself; I had fun (in compliance with my children’s mandate). And I have you all to thank for that. Remember, I mentioned the "journey to joy" at the beginning of this epistle. Emphasis on "joy." You did it, each one in his/her own special way.

So that's all for tonight. I hope everyone made it safely to your next destination. I look forward to The Directory in early December and our 55th in 2016.

God bless.

I've had several nice responses.

My greatest takeaway from this event was that God can be trusted, in every season of my life. He has made me who I am, through all events, those I perceived as negative as well as the positive. He used the insecurities of my high school years. He used the confusion and emptiness of my early twenties. He used even the unwise choices I made, when I tried to fill the huge hole in my heart with people who eventually hurt me. He used the dark years, when I thought I would never see light again. He used the healing years, with the support and love of my amazing children and my tender brothers and sisters in Christ. He used, most of all, His very own Son, Jesus, to walk the journey with me, to take broken shards of glass and create kaleidoscopic beauty.

I give thanks to you, Abba-Father, for providing perspective, for letting me see both classmates and myself through your eyes during the weekend reunion. Thank you for each one who was there, each one who was absent. I pray you will meet them one-on-one, in a new and fresh way in the days ahead. They are precious to me, and even more so to you. Amen.

The Silence is Broken

What could entice me back to my blog, you ask? And even if you don't ask, you know I'm going to tell you, anyway.

First, I want to write about "Andrea Bocelli: Vivere Live in Tuscany," a 2007 concert PBS (WOSU-TV) is replaying as part of their annual fund-raising effort. God met me here last Friday when I played hookey from Celebrate Recovery, and now it is on again. His first guest was Kenny G. Ah, Kenny G. Proof of God's drawing me to worship Him while listening to this gorgeous music. I hope no one takes offense to my worshipping God while listening to "secular" music. Yes, the lyrics are mostly Italian, but the harmonies and drama speak for themselves of the creativity of our Lord. Another perk: Bocelli sings two duets with Heather Headley, who is a believer. The second, "The Prayer," makes me weep. I thank you, Abba-Father, for teaching me freedom in Christ, for allowing me moments of rest where I can focus on you after spending time with family and friends. Thank you for reviving my soul.

Second, I want to write about a telephone call I had last evening. I've been discovered! You knew it was bound to happen...all this talent wrapped in one compact package. Oh, not that kind of discovery? No, come back into reality, Nancy. The call actually came from one of the organizers of the Wyomissing High School Class of 1961 50th Reunion. Through the marvels of modern Internet investgative technology, and through the kindness of my ex-husband in giving my current phone number, I was found, even though I didn't know I had been lost. The reunion is in October. I plan to attend for the first time in the 50 years since graduation.

Our class was small, just 51. I was startled and saddened to hear the names of eight who were no longer alive. So strange. Probably to be expected when we are all in our late sixties. But still, hard to grasp. I don't do well with keeping in touch. I have only one friend from college, even, with whom I have maintained a relationship over the years. Only one. And none from high school. Once again, I find my inner radar scanning the horizon of my life, looking for something to put in my guilt backpack. I should have stayed in touch with Marilyn, I find myself saying. We walked to school together almost every day. And now she's gone. So hard on myself, thinking what I do is Never Enough. Okay, I'll need to be content, right now, to pray for the families and friends of those who died. I'll need to be confident that God has been big enough to take care of all these classmates over the years. Yes, I can believe that.

Now, Let's see. I'll need to get a complete makeover, lose 30 pounds, buy some new outfits, and write a biography that makes me look successful and prosperous. Hmmmm. Not the Nancy you know? Doesn't sound like me, even to me. So maybe I'll let my girls take me shopping. That's one thing I haven't done in five or ten years that I think I could manage. Yeah. A couple of fall outfits, some new blue jeans, maybe a new pair of shoes. This is going to be fun. Thank you, Lord, for new experiences that will stretch me to trust you more.

This is not going to be fun. This is going to be scary. Me, the introvert. Nancy, the not-popular high school wallflower, returning to her first class reunion. After fifty years. What am I thinking? Do I have to do this? What will it be like? Will I connect with anyone? My life has been so out-of-the-ordinary. What is ordinary? What sorts of lives have others in my graduating class had? Hmmmm. Not the Nancy you know? Sounds like a version of the Nancy I know. The one you don't see too often. The one I see more often than you. The one Jesus sees. The one to whom Abba-Father says, "Be still, my Nina. Hush your silliness and take my hand. I have created you with gifts I have given to no one else. I have plans for you that will unfold with joy, if you will relax and trust me." Okay, Lord. Thank you for new experiences that will stretch me to trust you more. I place my hand in yours. Let's get ready! "That's what I'm talkin' about! Remember, I did make you yearbook editor right after you gave your life to me ." So you did. So you did, Lord. Here we go, again, then.

Reconnecting

Lord, you never
never
disconnected
from me.

It was I
who said goodbye
see you later
whenever I can figure out
what I’m escaping from
what I’m withdrawing
to avoid.

Nina, my silly, silly child,
trying to find answers
apart from me
author of the universe
lover of your soul.

How did you
think to disconnect
from me
when I indwell you
go before you
walk beside you
on your right hand
and your left,
when I protect
you from behind?

So my silence on written page
my reluctance
to open the book you’ve
already written to me
formed no barrier between us?

My love knows
no boundary.
I do not recognize
your disconnection.

Bring your questions
to me.
Though I may not answer,
you can trust me
to listen and love.

We will journey together
to your destiny’s end.
Along the way
you will fall more and more
in love with me.

Love is my desire for you,
not that you match your actions
to your own ideas
of what I want.

Walk with me
not by precept
but by proximity.
Set no standards for success
except our mutual joy.

I take your hand
my Lord.
My heart is yours.
I delight
in our dance.

Nancy Godfrey
June 25, 2006

Writing as Destiny

Now, it's time to get serious. Do you believe me? Do I believe me?

What I'm going to try to do here (in case anyone out there is following this blog like a story, like a series of writings that are actually connected day by day) - I'm going to transition into a thoughtful, less playful topic.

So here's my problem. I have a seriously serious side. Truly, I do. But even that facet is laced with tinges of humor. Is that contradictory? Ummm... No. It's the way my Father created me.

And He created me to be creative. Is that redundant? Ummm... No. In His creativity, He imparted His innovative, spontaneous wonder-filled nature to this little creature. He gave a special gift of His love. He gave writing. He gave words. He gave innovative, spontaneous, wonder-filled combinations of words.

I don't boast. (I hope, I don't. Maybe I do.) I'm often as surprised by what I write as those who read my pieces. When I read over past writings, I sometimes say, "Wow, that's good stuff!" Like someone else wrote it. And someone else (and I) did write it.

What I'm trying to say is that I couldn't write without the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, God's indwelling presence-of-Jesus, in my life. It started with the first Adam, when God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and he became a living being, the first creature made in His own image, one with the capacity for relationship with Him.

When He breathed life into me, He conferred creativity in a shape never seen before, never to be seen again. Because of that special breathing, because of God's desire for me to be intimately connected to Him, I feel compelled to keep writing, to combine words over and over again into the shape of my life, into the unveiling of my relationship with Him. My destiny, the purpose for which He created me, lies in writing my heart out. (Get it? Writing my heart out.)

So you see, I can be serious. Thoughtful and serious. Oh, but I must give credit to KL Knight for helping me think about (be thoughtful and serious about) this topic last night at the Psalm 45:1 gathering. Afterward, we were discussing the coming and goings of our writing seasons. And I discovered the fragility of my identity apart from writing. Hence, I needed to write about it, tonight.

I thank my Abba-Father that He's not conflicted or in need of bolstering about who He made me. I am delighted that He's always closer than a whisper to inspire me with the person of Jesus, with His desire to speak the Word of life to me, then through me. I thank Him for my destiny.

NG