Before I talk about the yearbook, let me ask: Did you ever hear of the one-suitcase challenge?

In the late 1980's in the Boston Movement (before it was known as the ICC), it was widely proclaimed that missionaries leaving Boston to go abroad sold all of their belongings except for what could fit in one suitcase, and went on their mission trips. This was mentioned both by Kip McKean in his "Revolution through Restoration III"  and Henry Kriete in his "Honest to God." Everything else was sold, we were told. Back in those days, it was about being radical. "Go anywhere, give up everything" was the phrase that was preached over and over again.

(Later on, I found out that missionaries were given money to purchase other goods once they arrived at their destinations. And I suspect other things were put into storage or left with relatives before they left.)

In 1989, I left my job as an engineer and went into the ministry with the Denver Church of Christ. I was going to move to Colorado Springs and lead that group as a house church. It was hoped that this would eventually become its own church. It did-- but that's a topic for another post.

As I packed up my stuff in Denver getting ready to go into the ministry and moving to Colorado Springs, I had all kinds of things to get rid of. After all, I was about to "go anywhere, give up everything."

Now here comes the yearbook part.

Having been influenced by the one-suitcase challenge, when the time came to pack up my high school yearbooks, I threw them away instead. Now high school wasn't a particularly pleasant time in my life, but this getting rid of the yearbooks is something I have come to regret.

I never made it down to the "one suitcase." Nobody explicitly told me that I had to, and that's not what I was shooting for. But the idea was out there that everything in your past life was pretty much trash, and all that mattered was the ICC. And we were pretty much expected to "give it all up for God."

At least I didn't throw away my baseball cards. :)

A year later, I was out of the ministry. But the yearbooks were still long gone.

There are many profound observations that I could make here, but I'll cut to the chase.

Fast forward from 1989 to 2007, about a month ago. I was snooping the internet for my old high school (in the Chicago suburbs), curious how the basketball team was doing in the state tournament. And I came upon an alumni site for my old school, and they said old yearbooks were available for purchase.

How many times my wife and kids had asked about where mine were, and how sad it was to tell the truth about what happened to them.

I sent the contact guy an email to see if the years I went were available. He said he had what I was looking for and I sent him a check.

Today, I received yearbooks for 1974 and 1975 (but alas, my graduating year 1976 was not available). That's from 32 and 33 years ago. Yikes.

It's only a couple of yearbooks. But they represent part of my life. Throwing them away in 1989 was evidence of how much I'd bought in to and been duped by the system.

The yearbooks I got today don't have all of the signatures the originals had. One of these new ones belonged to a dean, another belonged to who knows who. But a piece of my life returned to me today.

An action done under the influence has been undone, or at least redeemed.

I read through and see names and faces and I wonder "what ever became of" so and so. I see the old gym t-shirts we used to wear, black and white pictures of hallways, classrooms and gyms.

Now my kids can look at all the funny hairstyles and clothes from the period-- not to mention seeing dad's picture when he was a high school kid. And maybe I can heal a little bit too.

1974 Yearbook- $30
1975 Yearbook- $30
getting back a piece of my life- priceless.