“So Hope, what’s your spiritual gift?”
Having only gotten five hours of sleep, I was ready to doze off any second. Fortunately, I knew Devotion Session was supposed to be important, so I had been forcing myself to stay awake and listen as the other three girls in my tent shared their thoughts.
I blinked up sleepily at our tent counselor, Sarah. What were we doing again? Actually, I knew exactly what we were talking about; what is your spiritual gift that you could use for God? Problem was, I hadn’t the foggiest notion. In fact, I’d never considered myself someone who had any gift, spiritually or talent-wise. Sure, people loved to compliment my art, but compared to my friends, it was the work of an amateur. Other than that, I didn’t have much to give, except my writing. Should I say I know how to write? But everyone knows how to write…
The atmosphere in our red, stuffy tent was making it harder for me to think. Everyone was staring at me, expecting an answer I couldn’t give.
“Ummm…. I really don’t know,” I confessed, head bowed in shame. Sharon, Olivia, Joyce, and Sarah didn’t have this problem, it seemed as if the answers had come flowing out of their mouths. Sarah watched me with that half-smile that I’d always admired, and then she did something unexpected. She gave an answer for me.
“You know what, Hope? I think you’re not judgmental of other people, you always give people the head of the doubt, and you forgive easily.” Whoa…wasn’t expecting that… I looked up, just as another surprise popped up.
“Yeah, I’ve never heard her gossip before,” Olivia added.
“Now that is a gift,” chuckled Sarah. The rest of the group laughed, and I smiled. Thank you, Sarah… Yet during our three-day Jr. High church retreat at the beach, I would have to use my newfound “gift” to do something I thought would never happen; forgive a childhood friend who did the unthinkable – talk behind my back.
It started with Friday morning, the seventeen of us waiting patiently next to the church. Matt, Sarah’s fiancé, was busy “chopping wood” with our guest speaker, Bernie, at the back church parking lot. I had two five-and-a-half-year-long friends, Sharon and Rilla. Rilla was in China for the summer, but Sharon came. We both imagined the trip to be the perfect way to be together, just the two of us. Except something went wrong.
I’ll admit it was my fault. There was this kid called Brandon, and I used to like him, but gave up ages ago. Not expecting him to be at the retreat, I started talking to him more than my own friend. Sharon took this well at first, believing I was planning to make up for it later. It was only the first few hours of the trip, and we hadn’t even reached the campsite yet. Unfortunately, I was completely blind to her jealousy.
Over the next few days, I could see she was annoyed about something. I was a naïve, clueless kid for my age, so I didn’t realize what it was until she said it right in my face.
“Hope, you’d better go have fun with Brandon some more,” she scoffed at me every time I got near her. I was hurt, but I thought she’d get over it. Well, she didn’t.
It was obvious Sharon was jealous of something. Does she want me or does she want Brandon? I was dead irritated by then, so I dropped it, hoping our watertight friendship would wriggle out of this problem by itself.
It just got worse, our relationship rotting away like a wormy apple. I tried to spend more time with her, but I found it harder and harder to do. Maybe it was my fault again, but it seemed like the more I tried to soothe Sharon, the tighter she held back. Soon it became common for her to make callous jokes about me being “so stupid when I was so smart.” As I said, I was naïve, and didn’t understand much outside of school, like the word “preppy”, something Sharon called herself.
There were times I saw Sharon whispering to Olivia and Joyce, glancing surreptitiously at me while everyone else sat lazily by the fire. I didn’t get it. Sharon’s my best friend…if there was something she wanted to share, she wouldn’t share it with people she hardly knows like Olivia or Joyce, right? Is she…is she talking to them about me? But I couldn’t accept the fact Sharon would betray me, so I scolded myself for thinking these type of cruel thoughts about my best friend. I dropped that too, shoving it in my mind’s closet of “Unwanted Things”.
One day, while we hung by the beach, I was trying to find rocks. Brandon was teaching me how to skip stones on the waves. Suddenly, a sharp, heavy “something” hit my waist with a dull thud, making me wince. I turned around, and was shocked to see Sharon, half sneering, half laughing at me. Wet sand covered half my swimsuit, and the stinging pain was still throbbing. I couldn’t control myself this time, and I yelled at her, asking her why she threw that sandball. Even through my anger, I could hear the pleading tone in my own voice, begging Sharon to forgive me. Sharon’s smile faded, and she screamed back at me.
“It’s like you don’t even care about me, Hopey!”
She stormed off, leaving me on the verge of crying. Brandon shrugged, confused. I saw Sharon talking to him, and I thought I could hear her snap, “So you’re the cause of my grief?” Was he? Suddenly, I knew it was totally my fault Sharon was suffering. I wanted to change that.
That night we played Mafia by the campfire. I was accused of being the Mafia.
“Anyone second it?” the narrator invited. Sharon’s hand shot up, and when I gaped in surprise, she said, “I want to see if you live or die.” Well, I died, an innocent commoner. I hope you’re happy.
At the end of our trip, Sharon stopped by our house. Mom, a very nosy soul, asked her if it seemed like I made any new boyfriends over the trip. Sharon didn’t hesitate to say, “Brandon.” I tried to stop her, not wanting my Mom to believe something false, but she didn’t let me interrupt the interrogation. So I watched helplessly as Sharon spilled everything.
Literally, everything.
“I spied with Olivia and Joyce and we traded evidence about Hopey and Brandon.” I was shocked. So she had been talking about me. And behind my back. I asked her later, heartbroken, why she had gossiped about me.
“It’s not gossiping, Hopey, and it was Joyce and Olivia’s idea anyways,” she sniffed. I doubted her, but then that scolding conscience came back and made me feel guilty. There I go again, thinking she’s lying. I punished myself by acting as if nothing happened, and “made up” with Sharon.
But only one day after, Brandon e-mailed me and we discussed the retreat. It turned out Sharon not only said stuff about me, but also told Brandon that I used to like him. Olivia and Joyce asked him what was going on between us (nothing). Brandon said they were annoyed with Sharon constantly coming up to them whispering about me. So it wasn’t really Olivia or Joyce’s ideas… Brandon said while I was at the bathroom, Sharon told him these words, quote-for-quote:
“I’m sick of Hope.”
She hadn’t even called me “Hopey”, my loveable nickname. She told him it wasn’t his fault (it wasn’t), and it was bound to happen (I wasn’t so sure about that). I couldn’t stand it, the hurt was cutting deeper and deeper the more I found out about these things. I was confused. I’ll never talk to her again, never again… I wanted to hold a grudge, wanted to make her suffer like I was. I cried for hours in front of my computer, as I e-mailed Wesley and Brandon, both of them trying to give me support and comfort. I gave her the benefit of the doubt…I refused to believe she was against me…but look…it’s caused me more pain than it did for her! I was ready to vow never to forgive her, but as the clock ticked towards 11:00 P.M., as I continued to talk with Wesley and Brandon, as the tears slowly stopped and as my head spun, I realized I was wrong. I’d already forgiven Sharon, whether I wanted to or not. She’s my best friend…we’ve kept secrets for almost six years…she welcomed me when I first moved here to this church at eight…she buys me Lollicup every week at Chinese school… I knew I wasn’t the only one hurting inside.
How many times had we already broken each other’s hearts? This was nothing – friendship as strong as ours couldn’t allow itself to crumple by a mere argument as small as this, especially over a boy I didn’t even like! I didn’t care, even if Sharon hated me forever, I would always love her. She’s my friend…BFF, best friends forever…
I confessed to Sharon, who felt guilty too.
“Aww…Hopey, Sarah was so right about you not being judgmental!” she cheered.
And know what? Maybe Sarah was right. God sent this obstacle so I could understand exactly what it meant to use the spiritual gift he blessed me with. What’s your spiritual gift?
