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My friends squealed wildly as they plunged into the freezing water. It was early June, and the creek still flowed with melting snow from higher up the mountain. Eight of my best girlfriends and I were spending the first weekend of our summer in the Colorado Rockies. We'd been exploring the woods around our cabin when two of the girls suddenly jumped fully clothed into the frigid stream. The rest of us stayed warm and dry on the bank, laughing at our crazy friends.

We had such a blast that I almost forgot the reason for our mountain getaway. But when I climbed in my friend's Explorer to head home on Sunday evening, I remembered. The trip to the mountains was a going-away party … for me.

Two weeks later, I was staring out the window of my family's station wagon as we cruised east on the interstate—away from Colorado toward Illinois. I watched the evergreen trees and road signs whiz past and silently asked God the same questions I'd been asking him ever since I found out about the move. Why does Dad's new job have to be all the way across the stinkin' country? And why right in the middle of high school?

missing home
The first day at our new house I sat cross-legged on my bed, an island in the ocean of cardboard boxes. I'd rummaged through one box and found the photo album my friends had given me right before I left. Besides pictures, it had notes from my friends and teachers. We'll miss you so much … You have brightened up my life … I'll be praying for you. … The words blurred and I shut the book before my tears could fall on the page.

I spent the next week unpacking and rearranging furniture in my room. When I got bored with that, I put on some old jeans, grabbed a paintbrush and set to work on my bathroom. I scraped off the chipping, lime-colored paint, then covered the walls and ceiling with several coats of shiny white paint. I used a pattern I'd bought at the hardware store to stencil a dark green ivy trail around the top edge of the walls. I'd never painted an entire room by myself, much less stenciled anything, so I was pleasantly surprised when the dreary atmosphere of the lime-colored bathroom turned bright and cheery. If only I could cheer up myself this easily, I thought as I dabbed highlights on the ivy leaves.

feeling small
Mom took me to visit the high school counselor, and we found out I lacked a health class my new school required. The counselor said I could take a summer school P.E. class as an alternative.

I shrugged. What else am I going to do this summer? I thought, and opted for P.E.

Three days later, I wished I hadn't.

On the first day of class, I surveyed the chaos from the doorway of the gym: At least 20 kids sat, stood, slouched and jumped around on some bleachers, and a dozen or so others leaned against the walls. Three guys played basketball at one of eight hoops around the perimeter of the gym. They shoved each other and cursed, their shoes screeching against the floor an octave higher than the rest of the noise.

I remembered the counselor had said the school had 2,000 students. But the size of the student body didn't click in until I saw the size of the gym. My entire school in Colorado—with its 350 students—could have fit inside this place! My feet stayed glued to the floor in the doorway.

A whistle sliced through the noise, and a man walked into the gym and yelled "Quiet down!" As I slid onto the edge of the nearest bleacher, I decided the man looked like a football coach. A tough one. "Coach" took roll and laid down the rules: "No gum. No running around before class. If you're late three times, you flunk."

We then headed outside to run a few warm-up laps. As I jogged, my thoughts wandered to my last track season in Colorado. I'd been voted "Most Inspirational Athlete." Here, I couldn't even bring myself to talk to anyone. Yeah, real inspiring. I stared past the chain-link fence surrounding the track and wished I could just keep running … through the gate … west until I could see the mountains again.

Instead I jogged back into the school building with the rest of the class. Not wanting to brave the mob around the drinking fountain, I sat on a table and dangled my legs off the edge. I stared at my shoelaces and wondered if I could sneak out before Coach blasted his whistle again. He'd never notice one missing person. …

"Hi. I'm Josh," I heard someone say.

I glanced up and recognized Josh as one of the guys who'd been playing basketball before class. He invited me to a party that weekend, but before I had a chance to respond, he turned his attention back to his friends.

Then I heard another voice that seemed to be trying to get my attention. I turned around and saw a guy and a girl leaning against a wall. The guy jerked his head to motion me over.

"Are you into drugs?" he asked.

"What? Uh … no."

"Then you don't want to go to that party," he said.

"You might want to stay away from Josh, too," the girl added.

"Oh … thanks."

My "rescuers" then introduced themselves: Matt was a junior, like me, and Sharri was a senior. I couldn't believe how friendly they were. And they didn't bombard me with those where-are-you-from-why'd-you-move-here questions; they acted like we already knew each other. And I soon learned they were both Christians. We stuck together for the rest of summer school.

letting go of loneliness
I'd been told my suburban town was only a mile from Lake Michigan, but I hadn't gotten a chance to check it out yet. So when Matt invited me to join him and his friend Ben for some beach volleyball, I gladly agreed. A group of kids were already hanging out by the sand courts when we arrived. Music blasted from a white jeep, and a tall, pretty girl bounded over and greeted Ben with a hug.

"You must be Karen!" She smiled at me. "Sharri told me she had summer school with you. I'm Amy."

Amy linked her arm through mine and led me onto the volleyball court. "I know Matt and Sharri from school," she explained. "And Ben and I go to youth group together."

We started bumping the ball back and forth with the other guys and girls on the court. Smack! One of the guys pounded a spike across the net. I dove into the soft sand and popped the ball up in the air.

"Nice save!" called Amy from behind me as I scrambled to my feet, ready for another attack.

When we all stopped for a much-needed break, Amy and I decided to check out the lake. After we hiked across the beach, we waded slowly into chilly water. Suddenly, someone tackled me from behind and I tumbled into the lake. I came up sputtering and saw Amy sprawled in the water next to me. Matt and Ben were turning to retreat to the beach.

Amy and I glanced at each other and started pumping our legs furiously, creating a fountain of water and soaking the guys. The rest of the volleyball players dashed over from the courts to join in. After the girls claimed victory in an intense water war, we all sloshed back toward the volleyball area, laughing.

change of attitude
When I got home that afternoon, I was still smiling as I prepared to change out of my sopping clothes. I couldn't wait to write my buds in Colorado and tell them I'd finally met some cool Christian friends. Then I noticed something—I'd missed a spot on the bathroom wall. I bent over and squinted at the thin streak of lime behind the sink. Now where did I put that white paint?

I straightened up. My T-shirt and hair dripped lake water on the linoleum, and a thought struck me, seemingly out of nowhere. My entire life would be full of changes—some easy, some not, some understandable, and some that would seem totally confusing. Maybe one day I'd understand why we had to move, but in the meantime, I knew God would help me adjust. After all, if he could use summer school to bring me some great new friends, he could apparently bring good out of anything.

I decided to leave the lime spot on the wall. It would remind me to look for God's goodness in each change and challenge—no matter how rough or ugly they might appear at first. n

Read more from 'It Happened to Me'

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