I remember the bus ride home; the day I discovered tears don’t make noise. Minutes before my world had come crashing down and I couldn’t fix it.

I had walked into the room off the gym; a large blackboard seemed to fill the room and white chalk with lots of words filled the black board. The coach was a wiry lady, not prone to being kind, nice, or both; that day was both.

“If your name isn’t on the board then you are off the team,” she yelled with no emotion. “The rest of you I will see back next season.”

Like others, I scoured the board looking for my name; it wasn’t there. I looked again. I ran after her. “Coach,” I begged, “My name isn’t there; why? What did I do?” Without a glance, she kept walking, “You didn’t make the team.”

I stopped in my tracks as others high fived, laughed and congratulated each other.

I climbed onto the yellow bus and slowly went to the back hoping to be alone. Word had spread; kids are cruel; tears flowed.

There is always so much more to any story. I had a brother and sister who could do everything well. They were both every teacher’s dream. I was not. Back then no one knew what attention deficit was. Most of the teaching was reading and lecturing so I gazed out the window a lot. How I passed is still amazing! Through the years, teachers would make comments, “You are Diana’s sister? R.e.a.l.l.y?” I got used to it; grandparents, aunts, uncles, reminded me I wasn’t like anyone in the family; I was different.

I made it to eighth grade when the high school coach cast eyes on me.

I was the tallest in my grade; I was every coach’s dream or so it seemed. The summer between my eighth grade and ninth grade years I grew 4 inches; however, my coordination failed to catch up. I probably resembled Icabod Crane!

Being chosen to play basketball was the highlight for me; my sister was in the band; I would be the basketball player; I had found something I could do.

Being removed from the team meant I failed; again. My good enough wasn’t good enough; I had been rejected.

I carried that failure in my heart for years. I never played sports again. I made the decision based on one person’s opinion that I wasn’t athletic; no one told me differently.

In reality, I didn’t know what talents or gifts I had. I liked to talk but that trait had caused me lots of anguish! I had an imagination that took me to far-a-way places, in my mind only. I could spend a day spinning a story or making people laugh; but focusing on ordinary things wasn’t in my interest. So, I stayed in trouble at home and at school for talking.

It wasn’t until I was taking a college speech class that a professor told tell me I would make a good counselor, speech teacher, and overall good communicator. He helped me see that talking was a strength.

I eventually earned a degree in speech and a Masters in both speech and education. All because someone pointed me in the direction of my gifts and not my weaknesses.

Although my talents came into focus, I held that one bad experience in my heart for a lifetime.  I had tried to sweep it under the proverbial rug but through the years that experience would creep into my thoughts igniting old feelings. Although the experience was years earlier in my youth, the memory was embedded deeply.

Six years ago I was diagnosed with congestive heart failure; not a good thing to have. When the initial shock wore off and Phil and I began to navigate what this would look like as I grew older, I met a wonderful doctor who was doing research and asked me to be part of his program. Needing all the answers I could find, I agreed. Recently, after extensive tests, Dr. Sarma, the cardiologist overseeing the program, came and sat beside me. “Kathy,” he began,” I’ve always been baffled that you have congestive heart failure because you do not fit the standard symptoms; it’s made no sense until today. The MRI revealed why you have this; you were born with a mild case of Cardiomyopathy.” He began to explain the intricate details of my heart issues and I was trying to follow. But it was when he said, “You’ve heard of high school athletes who drop dead on the field after they have just played a strenuous game; they have Cardiomyopathy; they were born with a heart condition that went undetected.”

He was speaking but my mind and heart had rushed head long into my memory bank; I was cashing in on one of the most hurtful memories that had been like an unhealed sore all these years. What I had believed for a lifetime was a lie; I believed my good enough wasn’t good enough and that I had failed.

The truth was, I was protected. The old adage, “You don’t know what you don’t know” has merit.

My favorite book is the Bible. There is a verse in John 10:10 that says, “Satan comes to steal, kill, and destroy but I (Jesus) came that you might have life in abundance.” Few things steal, kill and destroys like a lie!  Out of that lie came hurt, disappointment, shame, regret, anger, dislike for a person and a belief that I was less than others.

Another book in the Bible, Romans 8:28 says,” All things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose.” When I was that young girl in the ninth grade, I didn’t know or understand there is a spiritual life we equally live by.  There are words to live by that will take the worst situations and help us overcome. I wish I had known; evidently no one in my life at that time knew it either. I simply tried to dodge the pain and humiliation of failure.

Through the years as I grew in my spiritual walk, I did pray for forgiveness for me, the coach, and I asked to be healed of that painful memory.  Although it was years in coming, God answered my prayer. He didn’t just sweep it away, He explained how He protected me. What I saw as rejection was in fact anything but.

Jeremiah 29:11 proclaims: “For I know the thoughts and plans I have for you, says the Lord, thoughts and plans for welfare and peace and not for evil, to give you hope in your final outcome.”

I have no idea why it took all those years before I learned the truth. I’m not glad I have a heart condition that may place restrictions on my life; however, that truth has helped me make some healthier choices that needed to be made.  But I know God is real; He is good; He is faithful; He cares for us; He cares for me.

Through the years, talking has served me well.  I’ve encouraged and helped countless students discover the talents placed in each of them by God. I’ve had the joy of equipping young people for a bright future.

There is another adage: We may be the only Jesus anyone else sees. We may be someone’s answer; we may be the smile, kind words, encouragement, prayer that helps another person keep going another day.

What if you are the person who gets to say to someone, “I know this hurts but you can trust me when I say, God has a plan and it is good; stay focused on Him and He will take care of you.”

At the end of the day, if you’ve made someone else’s day better, how great is that!

God is the details.