I used to be extremely apprehensive about love. Actually, I would still say I am. I am not a person who encourages my peers to jump on the bandwagon and join the trend of relationships, sex, and love. I've just never been a firm believer in that.
That being said, I am a bit of a hypocrite for it. The entire time I offered my friends this advice was while I was madly in love with a boy.
What's even more ironic is that my advice was right.
Love is a tough subject. It can take you to the highest of highs in one moment and shoot you to your grave in the next.
But sometimes, love is all we've got.
This past winter break when I returned home from college, it was not the best Christmas/New years. I rang in the holidays alone for the first time in two years. I also went to visit a personal favorite of mine, a little place called Somerset Beach, a place that I credit as leading me to my first love, Jesus Christ, my Savior. It is here that I first realized that I wanted to dive into a type of love that couldn't fail me, that endured forever, that saves me from the depths of hell. It is here that I began developing feelings for a God so awesome, I couldn't fathom just what he would do to my life. At least once I year, I return to the camp, a pilgrimage you could call it. And I remember and rediscover every emotion, memory, and person I ever felt, had, or met in my experiences at the camp.
I would love to return someday and work there and possibly lead others to where I am today through my story of camp..
I am actually writing about love though..
So...
the last time I returned to the camp was January of this year to meet up with two friends. we talked, caught up, revisited old places, old memories, and bundled together for warmth. We also had the delightful pleasure of running into our last counselor, Amy Luke, at the camp. We sat down and exchanged stories with each other, caught up on lost time.
Of course, the subject of "boys" was breached and we all shared our latest heart throb...
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