Wing Loading

The week went by a lot quicker than I had wished. I entered the jr. high school—alone. I was given the room number and proceeded down the cold, empty hallway. My footsteps echoed across the quiet corridors. The school was a labyrinth of room numbers. I could hear my own heart beating in my ears—do-do, do-do, do-do.

Oh, how I longed to have someone by my side. Even someone to speak with to help ease my nerves… and then the school bell rang. Every door in the hallway burst open. Students flooded out, and my anxiety hit the ceiling like mashed potatoes in a lunchroom food fight.

I was outnumbered and lost in a sea of slamming lockers and voices. Students were staring at me as I passed. They were gawking at the dodo. I felt as though I was about to collapse. Fortunately, a teacher found me and escorted me to my small, empty room. As I sat down, the hallway quieted once more… like nothing had happened.

I sat beneath the rhythm of the large black school clock, each tick pulling me closer to my fate. The door creaked open and in came the school psychologist to diagnose my intelligence.

“H-hi,” I said. “I’m Paul.”

She grinned. “Nice to meet you. Would you like to play some games today?”

Games? I love games! Her warm greeting was more than welcoming, but it wasn’t enough to fool me. “Yes,” I cautiously responded.

First, I read aloud—not again! I stumbled through the pages. Next, the flashcards. Ink bled across her notepad. Finally, here came the puzzles. But this time was different. She made it fun. We were even… laughing (another new species, extra points!). The tests ended and she smiled. For a moment, I felt normal—maybe even capable. But the moment passed as the old fear returned. The dodo was about to be measured again.

“That you may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height— to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

Ephesians 3:18-19