Personal Narrative: My Trip To Charleston, West Virginia

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Its Saturday morning and we’re leaving for Virginia. I am not looking forward to going and staying in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people. And I’m also not too excited about being all “churchy” and religious for an entire week. We are riding vans painted with the words “Honk for Jesus” “Jesus loves you” and “ASP bound Kzoo Michigan”. I am about as religious as a dead rock. We left the church around 7am, everyone was happy and smiling and ready to go work on poor people’s houses. This drive is going to be long so we have our blankets and pillows with us in the car, cozy as bugs in rugs. I am with my two friends and happy to be able to sing and act goofy with them on this car ride to Charleston, West Virginia. The ride down is going fine and all is good. I'm just a preppy white girl, living the dream, going on a church mission trip to satisfy my parents. I surely am not looking forward to having to work on some ratty old house that probably should be torn down, rather than be repaired. But here I am, riding down the road, lost and confused.
We arrive at St. Marks United Methodist Church around 6pm. As we get there we unpack our overnight bags and we all get into a big group and walk
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It’s Sunday and that means church. So we all get ready and go upstairs to the sanctuary. The members of the church are super inviting and kind to us. We take pictures with the homeless Jesus statue out in the front of the church after the service. Then we pack up the cars and leave for Bland County, Virginia.
We arrive and get settled in and do introductory stuff. This is taking way too long and I am getting bored. It is almost time for bed and my phone buzzes. It is a reminder for myself to post something on my snapchat story about my cat (It is the one year anniversary of her passing). I break down into tears. Not only because of my cat, but from the stuff the previous day. I cry myself to

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