An Intergovernmental Military Alliance

I miss your voice.
I'm sitting here on my bed in my sunshine yellow room, vibrant green shorts on- staring out at a grey-cloud strewn sky. Here. How can this be? I thought I lived in San Diego, California. I thought I lived in a world without rainclouds- in a field of daisies. Or it could be posies, I guess. The memory is vague, but colorful.

I guess I did until I drove away from you in that parking lot. Since then, I've shed tears over you. What is this nonsense?

Gosh, I don't know what I'd do if the iceplant had lost its color as well. The problem is: it's on the ground and my head has always been up in the sky. Formerly blue sky.

I never really know what to expect from a summer. They've all been so different. I thought I had a pretty good handle on how this one would go though. I expected paintball and ropes and base camp, for the most part. I expected climbing wall and archery and the midweek breakdown at Kid's camp, and the phenomenal bounce-back, a veritable ricochet of emotions. I expected to find nothing new, nothing attention-grabbing and significant from this world. I expected God to keep me stalwart. Strong only in Him. I thought I had wrapped my heart up and carefully stowed it away in a place where it could peacefully love my co-workers and the campers it came across and serve God. I expected some hard times, but for the most part, to coast through this summer soaking up the love of Christ.

I did not expect you.

I didn't expect a rollercoaster of new experiences to pursue, and new lessons to learn. I didn't expect to be enthralled- to find a soul who could possibly be so close to mine. I didn't expect that level of kindness and closeness and openness. I didn't expect to find someone I would so respect in terms of manliness, strength, godliness, and willingness to feel.

You walked into that office, different than I expected. I was excited to finally meet you, but I was excited about all the summer staff who were coming up. I started to get to know you slowly, but now what can I say? I didn't think I'd find a best friend.

You make me want to dive into life headfirst. All the things that I haven't yet done because I've been busy or "obedient" or lazy, you've made me want to do. Just thinking about the life you're inspiring me to lead makes the adrenaline race, it feels, from my heart to my fingertips- as if somehow what I'm typing could be made into action by its presence. It can't, of course. I have to make my life my own. I had a good start before I met you, but now I know some courses have to be made from scratch.

Here's the thing: it is possible to do that.

I think what I've learned from you is that I'm not broken. I think what you've taught me is that no matter what, my past doesn't have to be a leash on my future. Not if I don't let it. It's okay to dream; to pick a course and to pursue it to its conclusion. Even if I have to bulldoze and level the ground- and pick out all the ground cover, watering liberally. God can use us no matter how many times we've screwed up- we can repent. He'll turn us back to Himself and all along we've been a part of what His plan for this world is.

So- maybe you've taught me what God meant you to- you've blessed my life enough, maybe. Maybe it's okay if we never meet again. But I don't want it to be like that

and I hope you don't either.