“It seems like there sure are a lot of married people in this group. Lots of y’all are older.”
It was such a tiny comment, dropped like an afterthought into a whole conversation, but it stung.
I think I responded with a laugh and a fumbled something about people who choose to stay and help other lives change after they have been impacted themslelves and yadda yadda. (Which, by the way, I totally believe!) Suddenly, I was very aware of my cellulite and the new little lines around my eyes. I hoped she didn’t think I was creepy or weird or that she had stumbled into a group of old people.
But there is a reason that this post’s title isn’t “Crisis #2”–because it wasn’t. It stung in the moment, but I was able to take a deep breath and keep talking, keep listening, keep loving.
I think this means healing.
One of the best parts that weekend was the sweet camaraderie between us four.
We sat together in the dark on the cooling ground, watching constellations turn imperceptibly overhead. We slept with our heads close together on air mattresses. We talked over cocoa and coffee.
And even though my insecurities are still there, there is healing happening in my heart and I feel so glad for the chance to be an auxiliary part of this thing we call college ministry.