fairytale.

Growing up is a battle. A life-or-death mission into hostile territory. You tiptoe through minefields. Dodge bullets. Try to do the right thing... in a crazy time. But war has another side. The noble side. Forging friendships between improbable comrades. Uniting men. Bringing together the good... the bad... the ugly….After all if growing up is war, then those friends who grew up with you deserve a special respect. The ones who stuck by you shoulder to shoulder in a time when nothing is certain when all life lay ahead and every road led home.

-The Wonder Years-

I spent every summer that I remember of my childhood running around Young Life camps all over the country.  My summers seemed to be made out of the same kinds of things that inspired books like the Bridge to Teribithia and the Chronicles of Narnia.  Some kids read books and watched movies and dreamed of adventure.  I had the joy of living that adventure.  Early morning horse rides to a waterfall where cowboys cooked breakfast in a cast-iron pan over an open fire.  Harnessed to cables a hundred feet in the air, jumping off of a platform, hoping that the ropes will catch you.  Swimming in pools and lakes until the wrinkles threatened to never go away.  We rolled down hills full of dandelions and grass so lush it felt like cotton.  Epic games of hide and seek that always ended with tired bones and lungs full of fire and heavy eyes.  Square dances and cotton candy and freckles on our face, drawn from our mother’s eyeliner.  Hot, sweaty summer days running trough the woods, made sweeter by the ice cold Tang Tea that I swear I could hear calling my name from our cabin.  We waded in the creek and spit crickets out of our mouth and danced like our lives depended on it.

The characters of my fairy-tale summers were greater than anything I had ever read.   There was Megs the Valiant- a spitfire girl who could warm your soul and break your heart in the same breath.  She was daring and loving and fun and opinionated and full of adventure.  I think our souls were made out of the same kind of stuff.  My brother Drew the Just, logical and loyal, he worked hard and played hard and you couldn’t look away from his eyes while he soaked in all that our summers had to offer.  There was Bo the Magnificent-quiet until you knew him, adventurous, and loving—with a bravery that made you feel safe because you knew he would go to great lengths to protect you, but also because he could make you feel loved and known, which don’t always go together.(I remember a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo that was glued to his hand one summer. To me, Bo still remains the brave and brilliant face of Edmond Dantes.)  Will the Wild- fun and funny, full of life so thick that it was easier to breathe when he was around.  He could make you dance when you didn’t feel like it and laugh until your insides hurt.  It’s almost as if you could taste his freedom.  There was Sarah, who still reminds me in some ways of Jill Pole, always searching for knowledge and faith and beauty and hope and adventure.  Benny, who loved deeper than anyone and has a way of making everyone he ever meets feel delighted in, who had fun no matter where he was.  Austin Patrick Hall, the Huck Finn of the group- always questioning and daring and laughing and searching.  There was Prince Curtis- handsome and hilarious.  With the ability to dare you to do the unthinkable and accomplish the unreachable.  Princesses Katie and Marion, who we would have given our life and limbs to protect. The court jesters Austin and Graham who were wonderful, crazy and constantly covered in spaghetti. Who I loved in a way that felt like we shared the blood that runs through our veins.  These characters were mine. They are my family and are the faces of my childhood.  They are some of the dearest friends I have ever had.  They remain in me through the stickiness of cotton candy on my face, the way it feels when leaves crunch beneath my bare feet, the smell of a fireplace, the sound of a banjo, the way dirt feels and smells when it is mixed with sweat or tears.  We have an understanding of each other that no one else on earth has- a bond that forever ties us together. Just like any good fairy tale.

My summers at Young Life camp are one of the reasons that I believe in the magic and the wonder of the Creator.  They are the reason that I know that Jesus came to bring life, full and free.  They are my picture of a God who created adventure and dared us to experience it.  A God who loves a celebration and who is near when things are hard or scary.  A God who fights for us not against us.  A God who takes great delight in us.