A Tale of Three Cameras

Let me begin this post by warning you that I am a melancholy soul as of late. I find I cry at the drop of a hat and all I can blame it on is mental exhaustion and the holiday season. This morning I was emotional over the fact that Randy wasn't with us in chruch today. It's the first Sunday before Christmas that we haven't been in church together. Then I get emotional over the fact that I'm feeling sorry for myself about that and there are people in this world who are spending their second Christmas away from their families while they serve in Iraq or Afghanistan. Then I sit with the choir and during the closing song, I glance at the two Shumway sisters sitting in front of me and it hits me how much I miss singing with my younger sister. (Sorry, Bear. Now you're crying, too.) Then I can't sing anymore and cry all the way through the closing prayer while I'm trying really hard to STOP crying.

So that is all to warn you that what happened when we got home from church ended with a big puddle of more tears.

But this story really starts about six weeks ago.

It was a nice Saturday. The men decided to take the kids shooting and I was so grateful. I needed quiet time to study. I was getting set to leave the house and Randy was in the garage. I asked him to please take pictures of the kids for me while they were shooting. He said he would. His truck was locked and his hands were full and his keys were in his pocket. He was already irritated with something and I didn't want to make him any more irritated by asking him to stop whatever he was doing and unlock the truck. He looked at me; I swear he watched me. I said, "The camera is right here." And I hung it on the side mirror. A few hours later, Randy called me. "Hey, where'd you put the camera?" I panicked. He loaded up the kids and took the same route home. No camera. We put the two older boys on bikes and had them ride the route (it was just a few miles from our house) and they didn't have any luck. Randy and I got in the van and drove the route. No camera. We talked to neighbors up and down the street and around the corner. No sign of a camera. So I'm not only out our digital camera, I'm also out the pictures that were on the memory card because I HADN'T DOWNLOADED ANY OF THEM YET! What was on there? The entire trip to Oregon in August. The first day of school. Birthdays. Pretty much all of 2008. I cried for a good afternoon. That's the first camera.

So the day after Thanksgiving, I get up at 4:30 in the morning (an hour I'm seeing way too much of lately) and my sister-in-law and I go shopping. There are some great deals on digital cameras and I'm going to buy a new one. I love shopping on Black Friday, by the way. I love the crowds and the energy and I even like the cranky people. (But really, if you're just going to get out of bed that early and be cranky, stay home! Early morning shopping should be reserved for happy people only!) I bought a new camera and I was pretty sure I was going to be happy with it. It wasn't a whole lot of money, but it was $70 off the regular price and it will do what I need it to do. Because I'm in the thick of finals, I don't do anything with it for a few days. On the next Thursday, I find a few quiet minutes to look it over, play with it a little, and give myself approval for a decent camera. I put everything away back in the box and leave it on the floor next to the computer desk. Friday after lunch, I decide to put the memory card in the camera, except I can't find the camera. I look everywhere in my house. Literally. Finally, I think that maybe Randy moved it. He'd just come off nights and was sleeping. I wake him up and when he's finally coherent, he says he hasn't touched it. When I go back downstairs, I realize what has happened. I don't want to believe it, but my brain knows it and I start to cry. Hoping against hope, I drive to the intermediate school and get Braxton out of class. I ask him if he threw a yellow camera box away when he hauled garbages this morning. He certainly did. Then I tell him the camera was still in the box. My poor little 6th grader closes his eyes and leans his head against the lockers in the hallway. "Mom, I'm so sorry. It didn't even make any noise. I thought is was empty." It's not his fault. Braxton was trying to be more responsible and do his chores (for once). Friday is garbage day so our garbage has already been hauled to the dump. Randy calls the sanitation people who inform him that they run three trucks on Friday and each truck makes about seven runs. 21 loads of garbage. We're welcome to go see if we can find it, but we decide it isn't worth it. Tears for a full day. That was the second camera.

And that brings us to today. We have a tradition to take pictures after church on the Sunday before Christmas in front of the Christmas tree. I was excited as I drove home from church thinking how fun it would be to blog about the pictures and look at pictures from the past several years. I've been using a borrowed camera for the last few weeks while Randy and I try to make some decisions about what we want to do. I'm working on setting up the camera for self-timer when I discover McKay is drinking milk in the living room. I tell him to go to the kitchen and he decides to drink it fast. Milk spills all over him and the floor. I drag him to the kitchen and clean him up, then go clean up the floor. When I take the towel back to the kitchen, I hear Tanner holler, "McKay! No!" and then there's a thump. The borrowed digital camera is on the floor. I kneel down to pick it up and it won't focus. I turn it off, then back on, and it automatically shuts back off again. The lense isn't moving like it should. It's making strange noises. I kneel on the floor with the camera in my lap and start to cry. I tell my kids to go change their clothes; there won't be any pictures today. That was camera three.

There may be hope for camera three. At least I know where it is. I'll take it to the camera store tomorrow and see if anything can be done. Time for some serious prayers. And I might just swear off cameras.