WCC 2017: The Memories Behind the Pictures Pt. 1

A good friend of mine read a poem to me once.
Here it is:

"I was obsessed with "picture perfect",
I searched the world inside and out,
For a single moment I could say,
Is what life's all about,

My life was viewed through lenses,
My camera a medal worn with pride,
I thought it held the moments,
That I'd always keep inside,

But looking back at photos,
I can't remember how I felt,
The noises that the world made,
Or the way the warm air smelt,

I don't remember how the day was,
If it was going good or bad,
I've just a snapshot of a moment,
That nobody even had,

So I gave away my camera,
And now use my eyes instead,
To take photos for the scrapbook,
That I've made inside my head,

I always thought my photos,
Were ways to make my moments lasts,

But you remember life much better, 
When you don't view it all through glass."

-E. H.



I gave this poem a skeptical glance and went on my way.

How could one suggest that me and my iPhone camera are not the perfect duo to capture kodiak moments in the 21st century??

But looking back on it now through the eyes of a solemnly mature and grown-up 24 year-old adult (hey that last part is true, I'm 24), I can see how it would apply to my life.

My takeaway is this.

Don't stop to take a picture and ruin the moment.

Choose the moment; the memories will be better than the pictures.


You may ask, "Why choose this kind of an intro when this blog is full of pictures?"

Just as a reminder to myself.

Pictures are just pictures.

It's the memories behind them that really matter.


This blog?



My memories.

An old suitcase crammed with them, that I do my best to lay out, sort out, and remember.

This is why I blog.


_________________________________________________________________________________


It was Halloween when we left for Fresno.

I felt like I was betraying Southwest, but flying AA straight into Fresno was so much better than driving from Sacramento.

When our pilots walked up to board the plane, I couldn't believe it. These were the youngest, coolest looking pilots I had ever seen. 

As I busied myself telling them so, my Bishop and his wife walked up behind me. 

It was looking like a Pentecostal plane. 

About 120, seated in an upper room. 

A short, uneventful flight spilled out into the Fresno airport that sunny Tuesday afternoon. 

Our hearts were light and we felt alive. It was West Coast Conference. 

Another year to make some memories. 

Never thought I'd see a John Deere in the lobby of a California airport. 

Something my older brother taught me, when choosing rental cars.

You can't walk everywhere when you're on vacation. You have to rent a car... so why not make it one that you've never driven? Sort of like test driving a car for a weekend.

Most of my family subscribes to this theory.

Caleb chose a Dodge Challenger.

My mother got an Armada which is an absolute dream to drive.

And I found myself a XTS.

We always show up early for WCC on Tuesday night. It's kinda nice to get settled before the place gets crazy with Pentecostals.

And I don't want people that know me to see how many suitcases I bring.


But there's always someone to hang with the first night.

And some of them are more happy to see us than others.

Avonlee was having NONE of it. 

We had plans for a bright beginning for our Wednesday morning. 

Out in search for a good breakfast or coffee shop, our first try smelled like day old grease so we all walked out, leaving Caleb shaking his hands and shouting "LOOK'S OK TO MEEE."

After following a cop for several city blocks and numerous specific turns, we finally found the local police precinct....and Hi-Top Coffee next-door.

There's a special air to that first day. 

Old friends trickling in, new ones popping up everywhere. 

Off to the airport to snag one more before lunch. 

Educating ourselves until Mallory arrived.

What a better welcoming present, I ask, than a stuffed minion?

If you want to know where I'll be next year on the Wednesday before WCC, mark this on your calendar. 

I'll be at Diciccos Italian Restaurant on Nees St.

Unless it's dating an ex, sometimes the most charming thing to do is to do what you did exactly a year ago, with the same people. 

That first night, Apostolic business was booming. 

I got a stop at the pre-sale event with Bro. Wakefield and his custom pens. 

And I was stoked to see Scrubs out in an official capacity. 

Good news is, by the second night, Avonlee had completely warmed up to me, and we were best of friends. 

That was worth coming to WCC right there. 

Had nothing to do with the mints. 

Labor Day Conference Pt. 2: Where Were You All My Life? And Equally Important; Lunch

I did not want to get up.

It was Friday morning. I had received little sleep, and it was 6:30 am.



I finally sprang up 'n out and began to ready myself for a good early morning run.

I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, selected my shoes and grabbed a pullover in the event it was chilly outside.

I was greeted by the start of what looked like was going to be a perfect day.





Let me stop for a moment and give you a peek into the emotions running through my head. 



Doth thou wot how I felt?

Yond existence whence thou shouldst hast known something but thou didn't.

And 't wast right in front of thou the whole time.


The closest way I can think to explain my frame of mind is to take you to a hypothetical church conference.


<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

After church, at the youth event, you lean over to one of your confidants and ask, "Charlie, who is that particularly stunning young lady standing over by the volleyball net surrounded by five rather poor examples of the male species?

He leans towards you and explains, "You certainly know her! Quit pulling my lower limb."

Jacob: "Not so, my good man! I regretfully have yet to make her acquaintance. Honest!"

Charlie: "She's from that one church! You know. I think she's 21."

Jacob: "Nay nay, let it not be the truth! That church is a mere stone's throw from where I live. How have I never met her? I must introduce myself!"

Turning on the charm and popping a breath mint, the way is made over to the heavenly visage, but not without some inward kicking for time lost.

It can be made up, of course, but how much better if you had looked right under your nose first. Might have saved a few crusades for fair maidens in far lands.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<



The beginning of enlightenment is what I felt as I turned off the paved road and entered the gravel path, past the five mph sign that no one pays attention to, and over the homemade speed bumps fashioned out of gravel.


Crouching in my backyard, the subject of this morning's interest had been hidden not 5 minutes from my house during my entire life in McMinnville. I had never heard of it, much less visited it.

I wasn't sure whether to blame my peers for failing to mention this gem to me or blame myself for not paying attention whenever it had been brought in the conversation.

I went with the latter.

Let me present it to you, just as it was given to me.

Miller Woods. 

The 130 acres of forest and grassland that makes up Miller Woods, was given to Yamhill County in 2004, by K.T and Frieda Miller, both military contractor retirees from Alaska, and the county developed it into miles of walking and running trails.

From streams to ponds, to fields of grass and savannah timber, Miller Woods has it all. 

It is one of the few areas that I can run without the need for audio entertainment, for the entire 4.5-mile outer loop run. 

It is gorgeous. 

And it's mine. 

I haven't seen a bear yet, but one can always hope. 

An overactive imagination is a dangerous thing to have along on an excursion through the woods. 

We're pretty close to sea level. Don't laugh at the summit height. 

Some nefarious group of individuals was trying to assassinate me by toppling over trees to squash me as I ran past. But they had terrible timing and the tree was always flat out on the trail by the time I reached it. 

Crime Scene Photo #1.

Crime Scene Photo #2.

Crime Scene Photo #3. 

They tipped that one the wrong way. 

Truly laughable skillz. 

I went back with a group of friends a couple of weeks ago. 

EVEN BETTER. 

Becuase when you have people in front of you, there are targets to throw pinecones at. 

Perfect climbing tree. 

I saw something rustling in the low brush, and instinctively I grabbed for it. 

#myreward

Holding a snake as it slips effortlessly through your grip is one of the simple pleasures of life. 

Working on our Jungle Cruise Audition. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Shooting back to time present of the beginning of this post, somehow in the rush of getting back to my house and getting ready for the morning service, I found this picture that I must share. 

(There was flooding going on in certain parts of the US at the time)

Haters gonna hate. Potatoes going to....potate. 

After a fantastic  service, and MUCH convincing on my part, we took advantage of it being a Friday, by going to a restaurant that is never open around normal church times. 

Red Fox Bakery.

Divine. 

Timely. 

And the only place I get raisin bread and apple slices on my sandwich.  

Idealy situated across from one of McMinnville's illustrious attractions. 

Good times are right up our alley. 

The purse-holder's reward is large in Heaven.

And who would you guess was working at my brother's phone repair shop not but a few blocks away?

And who needed a whole passel of us to stop by and run amuck for a few minutes?

bANNANA. 

Notice Caleb's goggles. 

Don't ask. 

We turned the charm on when a customer walked in. 

(I know this is a long post already, but if you'd still reading I want to give some recognician to Jedidah J., who failthfully proofs reeds my blog after I post and passes along the grammer recommandations immmeditaley. 

Without her, I'd have the grammar Nazis beating me to a pulp.

Thank you.)