Campfire

I’ve taken a girls trip with my best friend, Julieann (AKA Buddy), for seven years and counting. 

We’ve seen some beautiful places, sharing belly laughs, tears, and simply sitting in the wonder of God’s beauty.

It was our last night in South Dakota. Although our days had been packed with adventure, this special night centered around the campfire.

The light danced within the fire pit, the scent of wet pines filled the air, the stars sparkled, and the ground crunched beneath our feet. 

Buddy’s face shone from rest and restoration.

We were together, content just to be there in that moment. We talked about the joys and trails of life. 

We chose not to acknowledge that Buddy’s mom was losing her battle with cancer.

We didn’t know yet that my mom would get a cancer diagnosis before the end of that year.

The chicken roasted over the open fire and our laughter filled the air.

Even though tough times lurked somewhere into our future, we stayed in the present moment agreeing that somehow sorrow illuminates joy.

We sat around the flames of uncertainty with Peace.

We raised our wine glasses to salute God’s goodness.

And somehow, without articulating it, we agreed that we can’t have the campfire without sacrificing the wood.