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We would move again, just in time for my Junior year in high school. Dad had a new job and once again I said goodbye to all that had become familiar. Everything was smaller at my second high school and reminded me of the country pace I had loved about Virginia. I tried out for show choir, the school musical, and something called FFA. I was told it stood for ‘Future Farmers of America’. After one meeting I realized I knew nothing about a farmer’s way of life; I only admired it from a distance. Little did I know that I would marry a farm boy, called from his tractor one day to be a Pastor in the Sandhills of Nebraska.
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