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I had pictures from Brazil (although those are going to have to get their own scrapbook, I have over 400 plus the ones Jon took that are 800 times better than mine), pictures from St. Louis in October, pictures from my car accident, Chester pictures, pictures from Thanksgiving and numerous Christmastime activities…
I was annoyed as I walked up to the photo counter and saw that the 1-hour machine was not working; but luckily, they had done my pictures before that problem. As she handed them to me, I got a sudden surge of memories I wasn’t expecting!
Every year of middle school and high school I went on some sort of mission trip or camp, and usually both. Nearly every year, I would find some boy to crush on, I’d make new friendships, I’d see places I’d never ever dreamed of seeing (like the Dominican Republic, or Glacier Park in Montana), and I’d bring my film to be developed the instant we got back home. Oh, the days of non-digital photography. I was always dying to see how my pictures turned out, if I got the perfect shot of said coveted boy. Cynthia and I would usually go together, dancing around Wal-Mart as we waited for the hour to be up.
And as soon as they handed me the package of pictures, I would open them up in the store and look through them. When the lady handed me my package on Thursday night, I went to open them and look through them immediately. It almost made me laugh a little. It was instinctual. Then I realized I had looked through all of these pictures 600 times on my computer and they were also on my screensaver, etc. I didn’t need to rip in right then.
Most of the time I will say I detested high school. I lived for youth group, where I felt more like a normal person and less like a mutant, like I did at school. I wasn’t smart enough for the school I went to, wasn’t popular enough, wasn’t thin enough or pretty enough. In youth group I was friends with people who had known me since childhood, and although there was the normal competition between girls, friends and not-so-much-friends (I won’t say enemies, because this is church, after all, and there is certainly no one from Webber Church I consider an ememy), but in general I was happy there. I felt confident. I love you, Webber, for growing me up into the person I am today. Thank you for all the trips and camps, the counseling, the affirmation, and the love. Thank you for this awesome second family I relied on!