Unless you're my parents, this picture will mean nothing to you.I, on the other hand, spent part of naptime today bawling my eyes out. I found this picture on Facebook, somewhere in the middle of Kathy Courtright's 83 pictures of the Scott/Peruite get-together last weekend. (I actually have no idea who she is, but I know most of the people in her pictures!)
There were a lot of adults on our center in Peru when I was growing up, and I'll admit that I probably don't remember half of their names (oh, all right, maybe I do...), but I could never forget these two men. I'm sure that most of us Peruite kids could tell you that Doug Deming was a pilot, and that Gene Scott was a translator, but for me, they were more than that. Those were just their day jobs.
Uncle Doug was my Sunday School teacher when I was little. (Did I ever have another Sunday School teacher after him? Sorry, Sunday School teachers of my childhood, but he's the only one I remember clearly. He set the standard!) And Uncle Scotty was, well, Uncle Scotty, and he was Uncle Scotty to more MKs than just my generation! The Scott's had the BEST yard and view of the lake for Easter Sunrise Services, and no Sunrise Service can ever even begin to compare with those that we had in their front yard.
Oh, and those tears I shed when I found this picture? They were selfish tears.
Because I want Uncle Doug and Uncle Scotty (and all of my other Peruite "Aunts" and "Uncles") to not be so ... old.
