Methodist Conference Site: Taytay, Rizal
Do you ever get a campfire song stuck in your head?
Do you ever get a campfire song stuck in your head?
Me, too.
I'm always there, down by
the old mill stream.
Or rocking my soul in the
bosom of Abraham.
All that clapping and you're
happy and you know it.
But nothing sends me up on cloud nine more than wondering why the
stars shine. Or why the ivy
twines. Or why the ocean's blue.
Tell Me
Why.
It’s a youth camp song for
the ages. My most favorite.
Ever… in the history of
ever.
The words, even when I say them in a faint voice, barely a whisper, are as vivid as they were the first time, maybe even more dramatic... maybe even a bit exaggerated.
It's possible I'd never been happier.
Maybe it's the smoke in the air mingled with wild shadows cast by the bonfire. And maybe because you are told why.
Because God made the stars to shine. And the ivy to twine. And the ocean, blue.
The words, even when I say them in a faint voice, barely a whisper, are as vivid as they were the first time, maybe even more dramatic... maybe even a bit exaggerated.
It's possible I'd never been happier.
Maybe it's the smoke in the air mingled with wild shadows cast by the bonfire. And maybe because you are told why.
Because God made the stars to shine. And the ivy to twine. And the ocean, blue.
And, wait for it...
... Because God made you, that's why I love you.
... Because God made you, that's why I love you.
Did I just hear a collective
sigh? And see eye-rolling?
Truth.
When you're 16, you're ready
to take on the world and a few minor planets. You dare to reach for the
moon and some random galaxies and the stars that are aglow like scattered sparks overhead.
You walk around in your
pedal pushers and slingback flats as if you’re about to walk the runway. Your heart is beating so fast you just know everybody
can hear it. And all you can think about are happy endings with rainbows and
balloons and doves floating by in the sky.
Love.
It’s been Facebooked and
tweeted and shared and pinned thousands and thousands of times.
Odes have been written about
it. Poems have been composed in its honor. Wandering minstrels have extolled it in folk ballads.
And like a flame...
... it brings a glow to your
life that is more radiant than a thousand campfires put together.
Sweet is the face of night.*
Hmm... Yeah.
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*First line of a published essay written in camp. Said article has not been preserved. Who knew it was going to be referenced several decades later?
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