The Stories They Might Have Told

For a photography project, it was my job to take pictures of things that represented the word "old". So, I started on a treasure hunt searching for anything in my house that was vintage or retro. I found all sorts of things: games, clothes, photos, toys, you name it. But what was most exciting to me was finding the two hats from WWII that belonged to my grandfathers, one army and the other navy. These hats have been around for 60 years and they were worn by very amazing men.

I never knew my Grandpa Romaine, but I have heard stories about him and seen pictures. I have heard the stories of him playing baseball with my dad and I've seen the scrapbook he made for my grandma, but I never heard the stories from him. He passed away when my father was in highschool, but that made me wonder what kind of stories he might have told me. Would he have told me romantic stories about how he fell in love with Grandma Nadine or teach me about the war? I'll never hear those stories, but from what I know, he was a part of a whole world that I will never know.

Looking at the navy hat of Grandpa Ed was a whole different wave of emotions. I have heard the stories first hand from Grandpa. Stories from around the world-- from Italy to Pearl Harbor, there were stories to tell. He was there, he was living the life of a sailor (a seabee, technically, but just as honorable) and he would always have stories to tell. But, like all things, the stories didn't last. He developed Alzheimer's and those stories began to fade and then he passed away. When that happened, the stories disappeared into history.

I still have both of my wonderful grandmothers in my life and they have their own stories to tell. They were women who worked during the war, not quite "Rosie the Riveters", but just as important. I could hear them talk about their lives in the 40s forever and I would be happy. But it's just not quite the same as hearing your grandpa tell you about "the old war days".

I would like to hear the stories again, but I can't. But that's alright, it's a part of life. Some of the stories last forever, and others are just there for the moment. Either way, they are remarkable and I will never forget the stories that I did hear. Above all, I will never EVER forget how these men did their part to change the world.

A Security Blanket of Clouds

My father recently shared a story in a sermon about a very perfect moment in time. It was a beautiful summer day when I was seven and we were lying on the trampoline watching the clouds role by against a beautiful canvas of blue. It was a moment when time stood still and none of the terrors and fears in the world existed. It was just me, dad and the clouds with nothing else around us.

I hadn't thought about this day for a long time, but as soon as he mentioned it, the memory was vivid in my mind. I could practically smell the summer air as he told the story and feel the sunshine burning my fair skin. I remember lying there and telling him that I was going to live with him and mom forever, but that is no longer the case.

I am off to college in seven months. I am no longer a seven-year-old on a trampoline, I am a seventeen-year-old who has experienced more than I knew existed ten years ago. I have had a friend commit suicide, known many people who have battled with cancer -some who made it and some who did not- and I have watched the world as it slowly crumbles.

The world is no longer still. In fact, it seems to be moving faster everyday. I am very aware of what America is facing, how students are feeling and how life cannot be perfect. It can seem quite grim, it really can. But when I look at those clouds fly across the sky, I am transported into a world where nothing is wrong and the world is beautiful. The clouds will always be there and no matter where I end up, my father and I will be able to look at them and remember the day on the trampoline. And then time will stop.

The Final Sunday

Yesterday was the last Sunday church service in the church building that I have grown up in. On the first Sunday I attended Bethany Community Church, I was five years old and it was to be my home for the next twelve years. Little did I know that over those twelve years I would have performed in seven children's musicals, participated in three different choirs, be baptized by my own father, light candles at the Christmas Eve service, be knocked out of my chair by a Sunday school teacher and make lattes for dozens of people every Sunday. A lot has happend, but now it is time to move on. Attendance has hit 1300 people a week and that space which has been home to so many memories will become a memory in and of itself.

Attending the last service in that building brought back so many memories. I sat in the balcony with my friends for the last time and I watched the sun shine through the stained glass behind the cross for the last time. But it was not sad for me. Instead, it was quite beautiful. It was amazing to think of all of the people who have been involved in making my memories at Bethany. 14 Sunday school teachers, dozens of youth leaders, 1 choir director, 2 small group leaders, and countless friends. So much effort is put into making your church experience a memorable one and it feels as though Bethany should win a prize.

I'll never forget the Sunday school classes and choir rehersals. I won't forget hiding in a closet with a friend to avoid children's church and I won't forget playing Sardines with the youth group when one boy clung to the underside of a car so it was impossible to see him. Of course, there was the time that every sixth grader experiences when Greg Collins knocks over tables to represent Jesus destroying the temple. And the two year olds who dress up as angels and sing "Away in a Manger". The list could go on forever, but there is no need for that.

The building is still there, but these memories are not so much about the building, they are about the church. More memories will be made in the new building and old memories will not be forgotten. Next Sunday will be an important one. Perhaps there will be someone there who will make Bethany their home for the next twelve years. And that's what it's all about. It is about creating a place of shelter and a home for anyone who will come. That is Christ's love working through us.

Unexpected Friends in Unexpected Places

One of the most difficult parts of high school for me was saying "good bye" to the friends I made who graduated before I did. I went to graduation every year, cried every year and said "farewell" every year. It was always bittersweet and disconcerting not to see them in the hallways the next day and wonder "well, who will I be friends with now?" It was always the grade ahead of me who I became friends with and the fact that there would be no class ahead of me someday was something I preferred not think about. Well, once that brutal fact did approach, I tried to find a group of friends who I could have fun with senior year.

Now, halfway through senior year, I find myself hanging out with three people who, at the beginning of freshman year, I never imagined I would find myself with. They were bold and flamboyant and I was shy. I watched from the corner while they stood in front of the class without a care in the world. But, somehow, I emerged from my little spot in the corner and realized just how amazing they are.

Spencer is in the orchestra with me and will listen to just about anything you have to say and always have a comforting word of advice. Adrienne is the nicest person I have met in my life and has love for everyone around her and dedication for anything she does. And Dan is the most talented actor I have met in my life and brings entertainment to any and every situation. Why I wasn't friends with these three all along is a mystery to me, but I now find myself quite attached to them.

So, now I will cry at graduation once again and be surrounded by people who I love so very much. My own life has proven that life is one big surprise and I absolutely love it!

The Tables are Turning

Today I auditioned for my last high school play ever. No, the audition process is not over, nor is the anticipation, but there is still that lurking feeling that it's the last one. And with every thing this year that is "the last one", I am continually realizing that I am the old one now.

When I was a freshman, I was scared to try out for the plays, but I can still name those upper classmen who made it all okay. They assured me that I was making the right choice, they told me the things to do that would make me a better actress and they took away any insecurities I might have had. These were "the old ones". And now I am one.

I was in the hallway where we waited to audition and the newbies around me were asking me about this and that. It sounds ridiculous to be talking like this, but I remember when I was one of them. One of the freshmen, scared of auditioning and feeling knots in my stomach, but I grew up and they will too.

Seeing how I've grown is continually reminding me that I will be in their same position in less than a year. I will be a scared freshman all over again, wanting to know how it all works. It is all part of the endless circle of life I suppose; this idea that once you finish something, you'll just begin all over again.

So now, I treasure the last few months of high school and being the old, respected one because I won't be that person for another four years.

Through the Lens of a Camera

I am taking photography this year and it has proven itself to be quite wonderful. Although it can be quite stressful at times to get this roll done and find enough hours of daylight to shoot more that roll, it is such a wonderful art. You see, I am not an artist. Yes, I most definitely wish I could sketch and paint, but it's simply not in the cards for me. But photography does not require me to use certain brush strokes or perfect shading. Photography allows me to use my eyes and create a picture that is completely beautiful.

It is an art that I own entirely. I put the film in the camera and I fire away. I look through all the trees and find the lone leaf that made it through autumn and is now covered in snow. I can change the speed of the shutter so that I can capture the flowing movements of a fountain and it looks as though you can see every drop of water. Then, I take those photos and spend a monotonous 30 minutes developing the film. Developing, although it is a royal pain, serves a greater purpose to me. I cannot be distracted by the things around me when I develop because I must keep an eye on the clock, so that concentration forces me to be alone with my thoughts. In my chaotic life, it is hard to find a time like that, so the 30 painful developing minutes are actually a blessing in an irritating disguise. But my favorite thing, above all, is that moment when I create the actual print and see all the hard work pay off.

When I make prints, I don't throw the paper in the developer and walk away. I drop the paper in and stand there intently watching and waiting for the picture to appear. And that right there is what makes all the work worth it. I have taken a blank negative and turned it into a picture. It is a perfect art and never again will I be able to look at the earth without wishing I could capture it on film.

A Fond Farewell to 2007 and a Warm Welcome to 2008

2008 approached me before I was ready. Those four numbers have always seemed quite far away to me and now they have arrived. I can hardly believe that I will start college in the fall and that I only have 6 months until high school will quickly fade into something from the past. But before I fear 2008, I find it only fitting to reflect on the beauties of 2007.

2007 was a year full of ups and downs, just like every year before it. The ups were friendships that, at one time, seemed impossible. The downs were deaths of two people who meant the world to me. Those two people were my grandpa and a dear old family friend.

Ed Michaelsen was the only grandpa I ever had and he most certainly lived up to that role. He was full of energy for most of his life, and full of love until the very end. He was the best grandfather the world could ever have and I will miss him. Although it is so hard for him to be gone, it is such a comfort to know that he is now somewhere where he can remember things again. He is in a better place and I just know that he must be smiling and full of life, thanks be to God. I love him very much and I will never forget all that he did for me and all of the joy he brought to those around him.

The second death the year brought was that of Scott Becker, a friend of our family, who died entirely too young. It is hard to lose someone earlier than is natural, but it always turns out that there is a purpose for that timing. Scott was a pastor at our church for years and it seemed that he was a huge influence on the whole world. He was a man who never let anything be dull. He brought excitement to everything and I'll never forget him. He gave the perfect Kermit the Frog impression and he sang "The Rainbow Connection" many a time, so now I can never forget him. He was a joy, he truly was.

Thank goodness the year was not entirely made up of heartache, though. I made friendships this year that are perfect. These friendships are what keep me going, and without them, I would never be able to get through the hardships of the year. God put them in my life for a reason and I am so thankful for that every day.

I am not entirely sure of what 2008 has in store for me, but I can guarantee that it will be an adventure. It is a big year and I am excited to see how it turns out. This year will most definitely be a year in which I will simply need to trust in God and believe that he will look out for me. So, good luck, and happy New Year!