Our family traveled to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving this year. After we stuffed ourselves with turkey and cornbread dressing, my mom brought out some old videos of our family that were taken in the 80s, when I was about 12-17 years old. I was watching myself in those videos, questioning myself, judging myself. I imagine that I will have a similar experience when I get to heaven and Jesus takes me into a theater to watch my life’s movie.

In July of 1984, Mom, Dad, and us five (so far) kids piled in our big brown striped van and headed across the country to Birmingham, Alabama to visit relatives. I remember the year because that was when Van Halen came out with their 1984 album and my cousin would play his drums to the music. We spent hours watching MTV (this is back when they played music videos) and the songs When Doves Cry and We’re Not Gonna Take It were overplayed. There’s this one scene in the home movie when all the family is playing outside. The little kids are playing with trikes and stomping on ants, the grown-ups are barbecueing and talking as they sit on the porch, my older sister Kristen is riding on the handlebars of my cousin’s bike, and I’m following Kristen all over. At one point, it shows me running like a girl down a hill, chasing after Kristen and my cousin. I look awkward: messy hair, ugly glasses, pre-teen body. And I remember feeling awkward: jealous of my sister, feeling all the rocks through my shoes, wanting a friend.

Fast forward:

Our Christmas Eve traditions included putting the angel on the top of the tree, acting out the Nativity story as my dad read it from the Bible, opening up a present of pajamas, changing, and then having a little p.j. fashion show. One year, it was my turn to put the angel on the tree, so I sat on my dad’s shoulders to reach the top branch. We drew our characters of the Nativity out of a hat, and I almost always ended up being a wise man/person. One year a Cabbage Patch doll was baby Jesus, and then the next year, my baby sister Heidi played the Savior’s part. We had a cat named Twilight that played a sheep one year, but he was given to a kennel shortly after Christmas for marking my mother’s bed spread among many other things in the house. But I digress. After the Nativity, we ripped open our p.j. packages. Once, I received a pink sweat suit that was too small for me and I tried to stretch it out as I modeled it. Although it was awkward for me, I don’t remember feeling angry at my parents for not knowing my size or jealous of my sister who had a suit that fit. My 34-year-old self saw a little hint of maturity in my teenage attitutde in that scene, and I thought to myself, "well done."

Fast forward:

We were putting on a talent show for our family night. I danced to the song Sussudio, a routine I had learned in the junior high drill team. I remembered all the steps to the dance, although I looked a little stiff. Kristen played the piano for her talent. My brother recited his multiplication tables. Baby Heidi, who was learning to walk, took a few steps for us. My two other sisters sang some preschool and church songs. Again, current self was pleased with younger self in the way I interacted with my younger siblings that night. I remember I could really be a jerk to them, but I’m glad that the movie shows me helping the two sisters with the words to their songs and picking up Heidi and holding her on my hip when she reached her arms up to me. Maybe that’s how my life video will be: my mistakes that I have repented of won’t even be shown to me.

Fast forward: 

I mentioned that I was in the junior high drill team, but I also took several years of jazz dance classes and I made the drill team for the football season my sophomore year. For many teenagers of the 80s, dance was life. I loved movies like Perfect, Footloose, Girls Just Want To Have Fun,  A Chorus Line, and Flashdance (the-edited-for-TV version) that portrayed the passion of dancing. The home movie showed one of my dance recitals, my tryout for the drill team, and a regional marching band/drill team competiton. I knew after that football season of drill team that I had progressed as far as I could (or wanted to) in dance and I didn’t try out for the basketball dance team. I got a job shortly after that and then joined the school a’capella choir as a senior and LOVED it. I now wonder if all the time I was dancing was wasted time that could have been spent discovering other talents. Oh well, at least it was some exercise that helped me build a few friendships and kept me out of mischief.

That was the end of the tape I watched Thanksgiving afternoon. The video camera became technologically out of date after a short while and my parents stopped using it. My husband and I have never owned one. However, I’m aware that my life is still being recorded and I want to live in a way that I can watch my life’s movie with Jesus in that big theater in heaven, and hear Him say "well done."