Has a song ever brought back vivid memories from the past for you?

This happens to me all the time. Usually it is a specific song that associates itself with a specific person in my life. Sometimes it’s because it was their favorite song when I knew them well. Sometimes there’s just something in the words that reminds me of them.

But yesterday…yesterday was different.

Around midnight, this song came on the radio. I was driving home, feeling very empty. Not really sure why, because I had just been to a movie with a handful of friends. But while I was walking out of the theatre, I saw the majority of the "young adult" group from my church…and I realized that somehow, in a year of living here, I’ve managed to maintain a safe distance from everyone I come into contact with.

I think I’m afraid of rejection.

And yet somehow, while the outside me puts on an act like it’s okay that I’m an afterthought to the party planning and plays off being ignored – "It’s okay…I had better things to do anyway…" – the inside me screams for fellowship. The kind of friends that want you to be part of their life any chance they get. The kind of friends you make memories with to tell your kids about some day. The kind of friends you can be yourself with and not have to worry what they’re really thinking of you.

These were the thoughts going through my head, when the song grabbed for my attention.

It was a Hawk Nelson song. I’ve never particularly cared for their music, but I owned one of their CD’s a few years ago and it played in my car for a couple months before I finally changed it out for some Lifehouse. A much better trade, if you ask me.

Immediately my mind flashed to the first few months I had lived in Oklahoma.

Prior to Oklahoma life, I might have been able to say I had one friend. It started the year all the young girls in our church decided to pitch in for "best friends" necklaces for everyone since we were "all best friends." When it was all said and done, all the girls had a "best friend" necklace…except me. I was the odd number out AND the short stick.

There was always "one friend" during my growing up years…but never the kind of friend that lasted. Every couple of years, the other girl would either find someone else they liked better or in rare instances, we would find we just didn’t get along as well as we thought. By the time I was 16 and graduating high school, I had decided best friends were a myth.

I spent a few lonely years finding friendship in handwritten letters to penpals all around the country or deep in the pages of some Christian classic literature or penning journal entries. Had you asked me, I would’ve said I had hundreds of friends. But the truth is, very few of them knew me as more than the image I created for them through written word.

Fast forward to the year I moved to Oklahoma.

Immediately, I had friends. Ryan was the "best friend" who I could always count on if I was in a bind. Amanda was the lovable, fun-having, forward thinking roommate who stretched my point of views on religion and politics. Chris was the quirky, trustworthy, you-can-tell-him-anything friend who always made me laugh and always planned the outings. Brad was the thinker who challenged my faith and could be sought after for solid advice. Keith was the fellow musician (for some reason I actually stood in awe of him at first). There were others too, who were added to the friend circle…my pastor and his wife, Jenson, Kim, Andrew, Jason…

Last night, as I heard this song playing, it reminded me.

Once, not so long ago, I was somebody. I was a respected, innocent, likable person. People wanted me in their inner circle. Ryan thought I was awesome. Amanda engaged me in discussions. Brad would ask me questions about theology and the latest book he’d read. Keith would invite me to all his friends’ parties. Friends would confide in me their problems and concerns because they knew I would listen.

As I thought on this, I wanted to go back.

But that’s impossible…it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing can be the same because I’ve left a catastrophic path of destroyed relationships in my wake.

It sickens me. When asked recently why they think it is I have so few friends, I was told it’s possibly because I come across as a fake. Another person told me I’m a bad mentor and influence in general. I get "propositioned" at least once a week…sometimes by guys I don’t know at all. Sometimes by guys I thought were honest friends.

And I stop to wonder…how have I become this person? When did I change to become the girl it was OKAY to talk to in a suggestive way? How have I come to portray an image that makes parents not want their kids around me? Why do my youth group girls not trust me with their struggles, but instead hide who they are from me in fear? When did I become the girl that friends have to grit their teeth to tolerate my company? And why do I appear shallow?

That song, when it played, reminded me of who I used to be. That positive image people saw 3 years ago -- the shy, sensitive, pure, deep thinking girl.

I want to go back.

Not to a particular time and place, but to an ideal. I don’t care that I’ve grown "so much" these past three years, because at the end of the growth is intolerable pain…painful regrets, painful destruction, painful memories.

No, I want to go back to what I had before. Back to when I could respect myself. Back to when others respected me. Back to innocence.