when everything changed for this nerd.

When people tell their conversion stories, you often hear them reference individuals, events, sights ...well, all sorts of things that strummed their hearts and made God resonate inside themselves. I believe that God sent His son to die for us, loves us passionately, and is constantly drawing us to Him through different channels. As I was making breakfast this morning, I tried to remember when I was first aware of what many call the "God-shaped hole" in my heart.

My family did not attend church while I was growing up, but my brother and I went to Christian schools for many years. Our grandparents are devout Catholics who brought us with them to Mass every time we stayed for the weekend. We prayed sometimes. We knew of God, but up until I was about 12 years old, He was hardly a Someone in my life; more a something, a subject I could answer lots of trivia questions about. Until 7th grade.

Middle school lifted me off my feet like a gale at sea. Suddenly, how I dressed mattered, as did who I hung out with and what my interests were. I had no idea how to "fit in." My school picture for the year is awkward enough proof of my social ignorance: My glasses were taped together and sitting crooked on my face; I had black and orange braces to celebrate Halloween; my shirt was purple and pink plaid. That picture package went straight to the bottom of the cedar chest my mother kept all our pictures in. Unfortunately, managing the school year wasn't as tidily dealt with.

I called my mom almost every day on the pay phone, in tears over my loneliness. Girls in my class eyed my daily outfits with disgust and questioned what kind of shampoo I used. My friends from elementary school ignored me in the hallways.

My parents did all they could to encourage me. They praised my strengths and gave me love when I was at home. But I felt very, very alone. The climactic moment came one day during lunch. I was sitting at a picnic table in the busy quad by myself, when a large group of very popular girls -obviously looking for a place to eat their own lunches- started heading my way. I looked up as their ringleader arrived beside me. "Come on, guys!" she yelled back to her friends. "Let's sit with the nerds!"

I remember my face flushing as I hurriedly shoved the book I had been reading in my backpack. I glanced at some of the girls as I rushed away... some of them were laughing, others looked embarrassed at what had been said. I don't even remember where I went from there, just that I walked blindly through the breezeways, blinking back tears while I waited for afternoon classes to start. I knew, as I roughly dried my cheeks, that I needed Someone.

It wasn't until late in high school that I became a Christian. But that was the painful moment that I passed Christ on my path for the first time, a moment of hesitation where I recognized something in the way He looked at me. My adolescent angst was nothing unusual... lots of kids go through it. Yet it was the lighthouse beacon in the storm that revealed if I squinted hard enough, if I reached out into the mist, there would be someone to grab my hand.

It struck me as I reminisced over all this that much has changed, and nothing has changed. Junior high was well over a decade ago, and today I deal with issues which are far more complex and heart-wrenching than how to win the affections and acceptance of those around me. My need for a Savior and best friend, though, remains the same. Seventh grade was when I realized I was going it alone, but blessedly, I am unaccompanied no longer. It makes all the difference.