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We were led inside a building, up a set of stairs, and into a dark, carpeted room.Here we were told to lie down on the floor and go to sleep, so I did.Instead, Miss Dotty would be God’s disappointed face, glowering.We slept in tents over fetid water swirling with mosquitoes.
At boot camp I wouldn’t have her to tell me when I was getting things wrong.
In exchange for donations I handed out prayer cards to sweet old ladies at church, my parent’s friends, my grandparents, aunts and uncles.
The prayer cards read “Serving the Lord” above a picture of my face.
Each team’s wall was painted with a different word: Doubt. In my head I panicked — nobody could find out I’d caused this, just like they could never see that I wasn’t trying to climb the wall, that I never finished my food.
But at the same time, a hard kernel of stubbornness was forming in my chest.
My whole life I’d been told who I was supposed to be and how I’d fallen short, and my whole life I believed it was my fault.