How Thirty High School Church Boys Saved Me

I didn’t expect them to take my most embarrassing moment to heart

Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash

I was 14 when my parents decided to switch churches and go to a much bigger one a few towns over. I’d spent my entire childhood attending a two-room rural church with the same twelve people, nearly all of which were my grandmother’s age. The only other kids in Sunday school were my siblings.

I felt awkward as hell the first time I got dropped off at the new church youth group, which was held in a repurposed gymnastics studio. Peeking from the car window, I watched a huge crowd of beautiful adolescent strangers walk in the doors. I didn’t know anyone there, and it was plain as day that everyone was way cooler and smarter than me. And since this group was for 14- through 18-year-olds, everyone seemed to tower over me too.

The youth leaders that night split us into boys and girls, and had us line up on either side of a huge, blue tumbling mat, the kind gymnasts practice on. There were at least 30 kids on each side. Since I’d been hiding in the bathroom until the last possible moment, I was the last person to come to my place along the mat.

All eyes were on me, the new kid. My heart beat wildly in my chest.