Then Sarah
texts me, “I forgot that guy is coming to study tonight!” Not that guy! You
know, that guy. The one who asks if
he can sit in on and record your study for a class. The one who neither of you
have ever met or heard of, but of course you said yes. Of course you did. The
one who, it didn’t occur to you until you email him about how he is welcome to
join in your bonfire, could be absolutely insane. Or creepy. Or mean.
So off I go
to Walmart to pick up a box of all-natural firewood (And s’mores fixins and
juice boxes and the blue Kool Aids with the twisty tops straight from your
childhood). There is some disconnect, people, when I go to Walmart to buy
firewood. Nature and I aren’t as close as we should be.
We met up at
Briscoe, us and that Guy. Sarah says she called up a chum and got directions.
RED FLAG. Ain’t NO WAY we are getting there on the first try. I know that, Mia knows that, that Guy will figure that out, but we get in our
cars anyways.
That Guy
turned out to be not creepy or mean. Insane? Well, finish reading the rest of
the narrative, and then I will let you decide, dear reader, for you are
entirely competent.
About a
stinking year, a few too many bad country songs, and about five u-turns later,
we make it there, by a miracle of the Lord. We hike up a mountain. We boisterously
ruin some poor couple’s mood and find a different spot to construct our fire.
The box of all-natural Walmart wood, Mia’s notebook paper, a brand new lighter,
and all our intense boy-scout skills had a fire rip-roaring (well, burning) in
no (well, maybe some) time!
S’mores,
Ephesians, Hi-C fruit punch juice box, starry skies, a giant spider on my
little leg, some of the most beautiful people I know. We also had the privilege
of introducing a brand new friend from Alex’s floor who is new to the country
to bonfires, s’mores, Reese’s, AND Bible study for the first time! And, icing
on the metaphorical cake, Emily brought her ukulele and Google brought the
praise chords.
And so, a “leaving
for Monroe at 9” became a returning home at 1. And I couldn’t have asked for
anything more ridiculous, more unpredictably successful, or, really, just more.
Happy that
bonfire season is upon us,
Jenna
