It’s not unusual to see a 20-, 25-, or even 30-year high school reunion. But a 30-year grade school reunion?? Perhaps uncommon for most…but not for us members of the St. Stephen Protomartyr Class of 1978. I know, you haven’t gotten to the 1978 part – you’re still wondering what in the world does protomartyr mean???
Time to pull out the ole Latin dictionary. As you probably know, a martyr is a person who dies for his/her religious beliefs. Actually in the original Greek the word “martyr” was first used to indicate a witness in a forensic, or legal, sense. The meaning we use now came about in the early Christian church when believers defended their faith to the point of suffering death, though not deliberately setting out with this intention. This is an important distinction from our modern day understanding of martyr.
St. Stephen was certainly both of those – a witness and someone willing to die for his beliefs. He was the first (hence the “proto”) martyr for the Christian faith, dying at the hands of an angry mob who stoned him for speaking out against the Mosaic Law and Jewish elders.
Thankfully nothing like that happened Saturday night, the eve of our reunion :). When Steve and I got to the hall, I recognized Donna right away and others who I haven’t seen in 10 or more years. Hugs were aplenty and it was amazing to see I had no trouble recognizing anyone. I mean, c’mon…30 years brings a multitude of changes to a person, but it quickly became clear to me that good or bad, the bonds we had forged as kids would stand the test of time, no matter how long.
The evening flew by and though food was bountiful, time was not; I looked at my watch once and nearly 3 hours had passed. Another look in what seemed like just a few minutes showed yet another hour had slipped away. Is this what happens with time when you’re older? When we were kids, it seemed exactly the opposite – we had our whole lives ahead of us! Who thought about time??
Like everyone else, I have a lot of childhood memories and many of mine are not happy. I was a gawky kid who spoke Hungarian to her immigrant mom and grandmother, I had wild curly hair (in a time when everyone else wanted Farrah Fawcett’s famous “feathered” look), my poor teeth desperately needed braces, and I was terribly shy. At the time it seemed everything I said came out wrong, so I mainly kept my mouth shut and my nose in my books. If someone told me in 1978 that I would later become a pubic speaker in the field of high technology, I would’ve laughed myself into a rubber room :).
But the unexpected happened Saturday night. My friend Mary said over dinner “Oh Cathy, you had the best sleepovers…you were like my whole childhood.”
I had no idea.
Later on someone else said the same thing, even saying that I was the only one who actually invited her to my house for a sleepover. Truth be told, being an only child with parents who were also “onlys” made for a rather lonely existence. Having friends over relieved much of the silence and tension in our house and made life more bearable.
I had no idea my classmates remembered me this way. Several of the guys hugged me and said “Wow, you look great!” I could see the sincerity in their eyes and was grateful for their kind words. I didn’t hear them from anyone when growing up.
Another friend hugged me and actually asked my forgiveness for all the “mean things she had said or done to me.” I was astonished and incredibly moved by her gesture. She was entirely serious and all I could think was how much I’ve been forgiven by the God of the Universe and reply “It’s all in the past, water under the bridge; it’s over. It actually helped me become who I am today.”
Others I spoke with told me of their own struggles and doubts during those same years. I had no idea. Of course at the time it seemed like I was the only one who stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.
No doubt I’m not the only one with wounds in her past. The way I see it you can go one of two ways. You can become embittered and resentful, holding a grudge for decades over matters that vanish with the passage of time. Or you can take the experiences life hands you and use it as a catalyst to change your very character and improve yourself, perhaps learn to serve others with what you’ve been given – good or bad. Every job application looks for “experience”. Life is the same way – you are in the BEST position to help someone else when you’ve had experience in the same area. Never take a bad encounter and throw it to the floor in bitterness; it is NEVER a waste.
I would like to meet my Maker someday with empty pockets, saying Lord everything you gave me – I gave it all away so others could learn more about you.
It’s not like there are any hearses with luggage racks :).
Time to pull out the ole Latin dictionary. As you probably know, a martyr is a person who dies for his/her religious beliefs. Actually in the original Greek the word “martyr” was first used to indicate a witness in a forensic, or legal, sense. The meaning we use now came about in the early Christian church when believers defended their faith to the point of suffering death, though not deliberately setting out with this intention. This is an important distinction from our modern day understanding of martyr.
St. Stephen was certainly both of those – a witness and someone willing to die for his beliefs. He was the first (hence the “proto”) martyr for the Christian faith, dying at the hands of an angry mob who stoned him for speaking out against the Mosaic Law and Jewish elders.
Thankfully nothing like that happened Saturday night, the eve of our reunion :). When Steve and I got to the hall, I recognized Donna right away and others who I haven’t seen in 10 or more years. Hugs were aplenty and it was amazing to see I had no trouble recognizing anyone. I mean, c’mon…30 years brings a multitude of changes to a person, but it quickly became clear to me that good or bad, the bonds we had forged as kids would stand the test of time, no matter how long.
The evening flew by and though food was bountiful, time was not; I looked at my watch once and nearly 3 hours had passed. Another look in what seemed like just a few minutes showed yet another hour had slipped away. Is this what happens with time when you’re older? When we were kids, it seemed exactly the opposite – we had our whole lives ahead of us! Who thought about time??
Like everyone else, I have a lot of childhood memories and many of mine are not happy. I was a gawky kid who spoke Hungarian to her immigrant mom and grandmother, I had wild curly hair (in a time when everyone else wanted Farrah Fawcett’s famous “feathered” look), my poor teeth desperately needed braces, and I was terribly shy. At the time it seemed everything I said came out wrong, so I mainly kept my mouth shut and my nose in my books. If someone told me in 1978 that I would later become a pubic speaker in the field of high technology, I would’ve laughed myself into a rubber room :).
But the unexpected happened Saturday night. My friend Mary said over dinner “Oh Cathy, you had the best sleepovers…you were like my whole childhood.”
I had no idea.
Later on someone else said the same thing, even saying that I was the only one who actually invited her to my house for a sleepover. Truth be told, being an only child with parents who were also “onlys” made for a rather lonely existence. Having friends over relieved much of the silence and tension in our house and made life more bearable.
I had no idea my classmates remembered me this way. Several of the guys hugged me and said “Wow, you look great!” I could see the sincerity in their eyes and was grateful for their kind words. I didn’t hear them from anyone when growing up.
Another friend hugged me and actually asked my forgiveness for all the “mean things she had said or done to me.” I was astonished and incredibly moved by her gesture. She was entirely serious and all I could think was how much I’ve been forgiven by the God of the Universe and reply “It’s all in the past, water under the bridge; it’s over. It actually helped me become who I am today.”
Others I spoke with told me of their own struggles and doubts during those same years. I had no idea. Of course at the time it seemed like I was the only one who stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.
No doubt I’m not the only one with wounds in her past. The way I see it you can go one of two ways. You can become embittered and resentful, holding a grudge for decades over matters that vanish with the passage of time. Or you can take the experiences life hands you and use it as a catalyst to change your very character and improve yourself, perhaps learn to serve others with what you’ve been given – good or bad. Every job application looks for “experience”. Life is the same way – you are in the BEST position to help someone else when you’ve had experience in the same area. Never take a bad encounter and throw it to the floor in bitterness; it is NEVER a waste.
I would like to meet my Maker someday with empty pockets, saying Lord everything you gave me – I gave it all away so others could learn more about you.
It’s not like there are any hearses with luggage racks :).
