’94 Rules!

Remember high school?

Riiiight. Me neither. I’m trying really hard in this moment to remember high school, but I’m afraid all I can remember is big hair and being nervous.

Photo source.

I don’t think the hair made me nervous but it certainly couldn’t have helped.

I’m getting ready to speak at a youth group convention. There will be about a gazillion (700) teenagers in one room and I am the speaker. For three days.

This is where you should commit to prayer and fasting for me.

I’m sure it will be fine and I have every hope that the guy who booked me won’t lose his job as a direct result of his irresponsibility in hiring such a WEIRDO, but in the wee hours, my mind does race.

Remember high school?!

I cannot wait to meet these kids, talk with them, hear their stories, share a bit of mine. I wish I could take my 16-year-old self out for breakfast and let her in on a few secrets. Like that high school doesn’t last forever. And what’s beyond is much more beautiful and full. And that waiting for the approval of others turns out to be just as much of a colossal waste of time in adulthood as it was in tenth grade. And that liquid blue eyeliner is actually kind of creepy.

What would you say to your high school self, other than to photograph your abs daily because they’ll never, ever recover after childbirth?

Words of wisdom? Warnings? Cheers? I’d love to hear.