She Was The New Girl At Her School And Only Wanted To Make Friends

At fourteen, I was the new girl at a rural school in an apple-orchard valley. There were twenty-eight kids in my class, which was equally divided between boys and girls. It was the tightly knit group of twelve girls that kept me an outsider. They teased me about my bright red hair, my height, my clothes, my shoe size, my accent and anything else they could think of. I cried myself to sleep after my parents’ pep talk. They said all the right things like “Give it time” and “Once they get to know you, they’ll love you.” I wanted to believe them, but the evidence proved otherwise.

Then, a few months into the school year, my parents’ predictions came true. I was playing out in left field for the girls’ baseball team when a ball rocketed right at me. I put my mitt up as a shield, and the ball packed itself right into my glove. That play saved the game, and we beat the boys’ team for the first time. Well, after that, the girls couldn’t just exclude me from the victory party. It turned out they liked my sense of humor, and a few actually said they wished they had my mass of auburn hair. Suddenly, I was “in.” Friendships grew, and soon I was included in the overnights and birthday parties.

Spring break came and went, and we returned to a school of freshly waxed floors, redone bulletin boards, and one new girl. Rosa was petite and quiet. Her family had come to work in the apple orchards. I knew how she felt, so I smiled at her and helped her find her way around. The final weeks of school passed, and we came to our last day and the traditional eighth-grade graduation dance.

I decided it would be a nice gesture to invite Rosa over to help her get ready for the dance. It was fun getting ready to together and being each others’ support when those insecurities would creep in.

We stood side by side in front of the mirror.

“Oh, thank you, Cindy!” Rosa said. We smiled at each others’ reflection. “I only wish my friend Tracie could see me now. I wish she could come to the dance. She said she’s never gone to one. She made me promise to have the best time ever and to remember every moment so I could tell her all about it tomorrow. She was so excited for me.”

Tracie! I had never even thought of her.

Tracie was one of the fourteen girls in our class. I was so happy when the twelve welcomed me into their inner circle that I had never looked back or looked around. I never looked at or thought about Tracie, the one who stood alone until Rosa had become her friend.

That night at the dance, Rosa was a hit. It was great to see her so happy. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Tracie. For the first time, I was aware of her absence. Tracie didn’t make it to the dance that night, but she affected me more than anyone who did. Tracie’s example of wanting her friend to be happy even though she had been excluded far outshined me taking such pride in a small kindness to another. I might have done a nice thing, but for whose gain did I do it?

These moments when we are humbled enough to learn are when God really teaches us. That night I learned my own happiness is only part of the big picture. I learned it is just as important to make sure others are loved and accepted as it is to feel that way ourselves.
At fourteen, I was the new girl at a rural school in an apple-orchard valley. There were twenty-eight kids in my class, which was equally divided between boys and girls. It was the tightly knit group of twelve girls that kept me an outsider. They teased me about my bright red hair, my height, my clothes, my shoe size, my accent and anything else they could think of. I cried myself to sleep after my parents’ pep talk. They said all the right things like “Give it time” and “Once they get to know you, they’ll love you.” I wanted to believe them, but the evidence proved otherwise.

Then, a few months into the school year, my parents’ predictions came true. I was playing out in left field for the girls’ baseball team when a ball rocketed right at me. I put my mitt up as a shield, and the ball packed itself right into my glove. That play saved the game, and we beat the boys’ team for the first time. Well, after that, the girls couldn’t just exclude me from the victory party. It turned out they liked my sense of humor, and a few actually said they wished they had my mass of auburn hair. Suddenly, I was “in.” Friendships grew, and soon I was included in the overnights and birthday parties.

Spring break came and went, and we returned to a school of freshly waxed floors, redone bulletin boards, and one new girl. Rosa was petite and quiet. Her family had come to work in the apple orchards. I knew how she felt, so I smiled at her and helped her find her way around. The final weeks of school passed, and we came to our last day and the traditional eighth-grade graduation dance.

I decided it would be a nice gesture to invite Rosa over to help her get ready for the dance. It was fun getting ready to together and being each others’ support when those insecurities would creep in.

We stood side by side in front of the mirror.

“Oh, thank you, Cindy!” Rosa said. We smiled at each others’ reflection. “I only wish my friend Tracie could see me now. I wish she could come to the dance. She said she’s never gone to one. She made me promise to have the best time ever and to remember every moment so I could tell her all about it tomorrow. She was so excited for me.”

Tracie! I had never even thought of her.

Tracie was one of the fourteen girls in our class. I was so happy when the twelve welcomed me into their inner circle that I had never looked back or looked around. I never looked at or thought about Tracie, the one who stood alone until Rosa had become her friend.

That night at the dance, Rosa was a hit. It was great to see her so happy. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Tracie. For the first time, I was aware of her absence. Tracie didn’t make it to the dance that night, but she affected me more than anyone who did. Tracie’s example of wanting her friend to be happy even though she had been excluded far outshined me taking such pride in a small kindness to another. I might have done a nice thing, but for whose gain did I do it?

These moments when we are humbled enough to learn are when God really teaches us. That night I learned my own happiness is only part of the big picture. I learned it is just as important to make sure others are loved and accepted as it is to feel that way ourselves.

At fourteen, I was the new girl at a rural school in an apple-orchard valley. There were twenty-eight kids in my class, which was equally divided between boys and girls. It was the tightly knit group of twelve girls that kept me an outsider. They teased me about my bright red hair, my height, my clothes, my shoe size, my accent and anything else they could think of. I cried myself to sleep after my parents’ pep talk. They said all the right things like “Give it time” and “Once they get to know you, they’ll love you.” I wanted to believe them, but the evidence proved otherwise.

Then, a few months into the school year, my parents’ predictions came true. I was playing out in left field for the girls’ baseball team when a ball rocketed right at me. I put my mitt up as a shield, and the ball packed itself right into my glove. That play saved the game, and we beat the boys’ team for the first time. Well, after that, the girls couldn’t just exclude me from the victory party. It turned out they liked my sense of humor, and a few actually said they wished they had my mass of auburn hair. Suddenly, I was “in.” Friendships grew, and soon I was included in the overnights and birthday parties.

Spring break came and went, and we returned to a school of freshly waxed floors, redone bulletin boards, and one new girl. Rosa was petite and quiet. Her family had come to work in the apple orchards. I knew how she felt, so I smiled at her and helped her find her way around. The final weeks of school passed, and we came to our last day and the traditional eighth-grade graduation dance.

I decided it would be a nice gesture to invite Rosa over to help her get ready for the dance. It was fun getting ready to together and being each others’ support when those insecurities would creep in.

We stood side by side in front of the mirror.

“Oh, thank you, Cindy!” Rosa said. We smiled at each others’ reflection. “I only wish my friend Tracie could see me now. I wish she could come to the dance. She said she’s never gone to one. She made me promise to have the best time ever and to remember every moment so I could tell her all about it tomorrow. She was so excited for me.”

Tracie! I had never even thought of her.

Tracie was one of the fourteen girls in our class. I was so happy when the twelve welcomed me into their inner circle that I had never looked back or looked around. I never looked at or thought about Tracie, the one who stood alone until Rosa had become her friend.

That night at the dance, Rosa was a hit. It was great to see her so happy. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Tracie. For the first time, I was aware of her absence. Tracie didn’t make it to the dance that night, but she affected me more than anyone who did. Tracie’s example of wanting her friend to be happy even though she had been excluded far outshined me taking such pride in a small kindness to another. I might have done a nice thing, but for whose gain did I do it?

These moments when we are humbled enough to learn are when God really teaches us. That night I learned my own happiness is only part of the big picture. I learned it is just as important to make sure others are loved and accepted as it is to feel that way ourselves.

If you know someone who might like this, please click “Share!”