Middle school came, I was certainly the butt of jokes- from my hair to my shoes, but I made the best of it. My only goal was to be on the honor roll, at least Mom would smile for a couple of moments. With an old-school mom, you can imagine the beef I took socially, especially when not allowed to shave my legs... my first major rebellion. I shaved. :) All down hill from there. Renewed my love of music in 6th grade when I picked up the saxophone. After a short lived piano career at the tender age of 5, it was nice to be back into music without being forced. Home life was really no better than before. I would spend hours at home alone while everyone else was out to work. I never left the house. I didn't sneak liquor out of the cabinet. I didn't sit on the phone. I didn't rummage through people stuff. I didn't even watch t.v.. I sang to myself. Made up songs singing at the top of my lungs. and waited on the steps waiting for someone to come home. *pathetic* By this point in time we had stopped attending the church in Sterling Heights and became part of one closer by. The youth group I attended was the furthest I could imagine from a God fearing group of kids. They smoke, did drugs, drank, had sex... I had never been allowed to hang with peeps that did things like that, and here I was pushed to attend church with them twice a week. This was such a contradiction, I did not know that peeps that did these things attended church. Can you read my naivety? Grama became a principal for their school. I remember wanting to attend, but not being allowed. I wonder why.

So, my first integrated exposure of things to come and how the world really revolved were with my church going peers. I can laugh now, but there was this guy that everyone looked up to as God loving, but he was also considered a nerd and brown noser by the "cool kids". He liked me... my folks (Grama and Mom) had no problem with us hanging out together- I think they failed to realize that even though he wanted to be a missionary he still had the hormones of a teenage guy. I won't go into further detail, but I remember feeling quite nauseated and mad because of his underlying yet openly displayed intentions and because my folks left me alone with him. I was 11ish. Jaded, I was growing tired of church. However, it was still what I knew to do. I went through the motions. Did what I was told. Acted the way I was supposed to act. I looked up to the youth pastor, trying to find that father figure. He had 2 girls of his own, how I wanted to be part of it. Later, it was told he had abused one of the girls in the youth group... Jaded. I was present in the church, but absent in heart and mind.

I had no more than a handful of friends and out of those there were only a couple that I really spoke with. Annette was the closest of them. She came from a broken home like myself and I think suffered the same emotions I did. I don't think Mom liked or trusted her because of her family situation, but we understood each other. Based off of my prior connection with Christ, I took Annette to church with me. I wanted to show her a glimpse of who He was to me, even though I didn't have that same connection anymore. I think she found Him, whether in the church or if God just spoke to her heart, but she started attending a church in her area after a while and gave her life to Christ. She was tragically killed in a boating accident the end of 8th grade year- the first death that I really connected with. I grieved and grieved hard. Alone again. Not a great way to wrap up my middle school experience, but... during high school orientation my eyes fell upon this particular guy.