Lenten Project: Second Fearless Friday

In Grenada, my family's relationship with the other IFB missionaries was vital. There we found fellowship, abiding friendship, and support in our ministries. We kept each other sane through the hardships of missionary life.  For we MKs, that's were we found our best friends.

My sister Mary, MK friend Michelle, MK friend Miriam, me, MK friend-I-didn't-like-very-much Anna, sister Lizzy, and sister Lydia at my eighth birthday party

Before the KJV-Only split that caused a rift between our two families, one of my best friends was Miriam. She was the sole daughter in a family of seven kids. Her two older brothers, David and Darrell, delighted in tormenting us with teasing, which we bore with little grace. 

One particular time, I went for a sleepover at Miriam's house. All night we oohed and ahhed over dated Sears catalogs, ogling the male models and envying the female, as adolescent girls are prone to do.  They all looked so happy! And so white (living in a country with 100% black population made white people a curiosity--we Schaefer kids would frequently make fun of the white tourists who flocked from cruise ships in the harbour).

When we finally put the Sears catalogs away and fell asleep, my dreams were filled with worldly clothing and a licentious desire to be kissed by a boy that looked like one of the catalog models. 

1991 Sears catalog

At breakfast the next morning, David and Darrell came swaggering into the room with big mocking grins on their faces. Darrell was waving a tape in his hand, laughing like he had a hilarious secret. 

And boy, did he! Turns out, he and David had hatched a daring scheme to record us girls' conversation the night before. They'd bugged Miriam's room and had, from across the hall in their loft, been listening to our Sears catalog induced raptures. 

The boys bragged, to our utter shock and shame, that they'd heard every word, and now had recorded proof of our silliness. It was mortifying. 

My parents tried to tell me that boys tease girls they like. But I was skeptical. After all, I thought Darrell was a jerk. David I could get along with when there weren't other pesky siblings around to make fun of us while we tried to discuss books. But Darrell? Nope. Nothing but a meany-head. 

I survived the humiliation that day, and my dad later comforted me by saying he'd paid Darrell to destroy the tape. 

Looking back now, I kinda hope it was true. And I hope Darrell, now a dear friend with his own famous blog, made bank!

Friends now, but still awkwardly adhering to the six inch rule