As a high school junior in central Indiana, I participated in this scholarship program, Junior Miss.
As a dancer, I wasn’t worried about any of the fitness, poise and appearance, or talent routines – I actually looked forward to them. The interview with the judges was intimidating, but I felt assured that I nailed it when, in a stroke of luck, I answered a question about what I would do as a business owner when an ad mistakenly ran that created too many contest winners, with the exact decision the company made. The last phase of Junior Miss was an analysis of our grades. And I was a bit out of my league there. While everyone assumed I was in the top 5% of my class, as I took academic courses, was a good kid (e.g., a goodie two shoes), and had a circle of friends that included our valedictorian, salutatorian, and state gymnastics champion, I actually had to work really hard to get Bs. So, at the end of the first night of competition, when the top ten finalists were announced and my name was called, I looked around at my nine peers and realized I was the only one who wasn’t in honor’s society. And yet there I was. Playing with the big kids as if I belonged.
Recently I had the exact same feeling when I learned that my website was on the list of top 75 dating and relationships sites (#65, but I’ll take it). I couldn’t help but look at the number of followers of the others around me in the list. Some had thousands of viewers, some had tens of thousands. I have a little over 100. I can’t help but wonder, when we’re playing in the big kids’ sandbox when we feel like a little kid, is this our opportunity to grow? Is it some cosmic growth opportunity, launching us into the next stage in life? What do you do when you find yourself playing with the big kids?
In the meantime, choose love. Choose you.