A Story That Shaped My Four-Year-Old Brain
According to Boersma family lore, I had memorized the words to it before I even knew how to read.
According to Boersma family lore, I had memorized the words to it before I even knew how to read.
For company, I had my two siblings and other high schoolers from my church with whom I hadn’t exchanged more than a passing word for years due to my aversion to youth group. The food was delicious; the time passed like molasses.
Each night I picked a spot at least a hundred yards from our tent and then listened, obsessively, for the sound of mischief.
Okay, maybe it’s best not to dwell on your quirks quite yet—we’re not there and that’s just fine.
At some point, some teacher or youth group leader or professor will point to Tolkien and C.S. Lewis’ circle of intellectuals to show that Christian scholarship can be more than just inside baseball.
Sure, there’s a half-bird clone of Thomas Edison, but what does the half-bird clone of Thomas Edison symbolize?
There was always another plant to look for, another mushroom species to find, and the possibilities of foraging were endless.
Remember how infuriating that person who wouldn’t pass in the passing lane was? Don’t be that person.
But here’s the problem: everything she’s said about me on this blog? It’s all true.
I don’t know whether the driver even saw me after the fact, or if he ever registered the uncouth bird I flashed at him.