31 Days of Story {Days 15-17} A Vivid Imagination

After a whirlwind weekend in D.C.....I am just catching up and continuing to spend time with my best friend so the memories and stories written here have slowed, but I am determined to carry on....so we will just combine three days into one.

Hey, it's my 31 days, right?
I can smoosh them together if I want to, eh?

Let's kick it then!

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To say that I struggled being a missionary kid, especially during my teenage years would be a gross understatement. You can check the video recounting one of my brilliant adolescent moves HERE.

I hated being different.
Really and truly.
I just wanted to be like everybody else.
To blend in.
To just please NOT stand out.

But that was not to be.

At fifteen, there was no English-speaking school for me to attend in the curriculum that I had worked through my entire life, so I was forced to do a year of home schooling alone. My sister was in elementary school and was able to find a place to learn with other children.

It was not that I could not work well independently or struggled tremendously with the work. My parents were a great resource. It was socially that I felt so isolated and so very, very, very alone.

Mom would even find me talking to myself.
Okay so maybe not totally to myself,
Although she thought I was.

I was quite friendless in that season. Missionary kid pals all gone. Youth group friends in another country. So I would play made up scenarios in my mind or real life upcoming events I knew were planned. It was a world of imagination and play based in reality filled with timed laughter, heartfelt conversations, and adventurous activities. I could role play any person in my address book with uncanny certainty, facial expressions, and voice changes.

So I am sure I was a frightfully random sight when my mother would walk into the room in the middle of my class time to see me throwing my countenance and emotions to depict all of the characters running through my head.

"Lindsey, stop doing that!"

I jumped, caught in my secret revery, and immediately cried out in return, with tears welling in my eyes, "But Mom, I do not have anybody to talk to!"

"You can talk to me!" she exclaimed with desperation in her voice.

Tear fully running now, "It's not the same, Mom...."

That season did not last long as the following year a new school opened up that I got to be a part of.  But that time in my life of loneliness taught me a lot.

I learned that I did not like to be "alone," but I could.
I learned that I my imagination knew no bounds, and that was not a bad thing...for the most part.
I learned that my mom would be there for me in every circumstance...even when I had no friends.
And I eventually learned that being a missionary kid was not SO bad, but I am getting ahead of myself.

Come back tomorrow for more story!

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