After my mom died, a neighbor convinced my dad to send me to a Bible camp. We’re not religious.
At Bible camp, I spent the first few days eating lunch in the bathroom, sulking, and texting my friends SOS messages. During quiet hour, most girls stayed near the cabin, while I slid my phone, the Verizon LG Extravert, into my hiking socks, and dashed into the forest. Truth is, I was intimidated by these girls.
My choice to major in the unafraid came during camper bonding night. It was the only time I prayed at camp. I prayed for something to help me make friends; and God delivered with buttered watermelon. The game is quite self-explanatory. You slather a watermelon with butter and you go play football with it in the lake.
As designated quarterback, I barreled through to score touchdown after touchdown until dark. My prepubescent, 5’9 stature made me a threat to the 5’4 girls surrounding me. I used my new position to lead us to victory. When the game was over, my new friends chanted, “QB, QB, QB,” and the honor of cutting the watermelon was ours.
After that, I never felt like I didn’t fit in with the other girls. I couldn’t spit out bible quotes at the rate they could, but I could play buttered watermelon and spit the seeds. By the end of camp, I made some lifelong friends. Differences don’t matter in social situations when the focus is being yourself. Maybe God got my spiritual text.