On Saturday night, we went back to our fire pit and starting gathering wood and kindling. I'm a bit of a pyromaniac at heart, so with bonfire in my eyes, we crafted a beautifully ventilated tee-pee structure that would cook up those hobo pies in no time flat. We stepped back to survey our work, and satisfied that this was the stuff of legend, I struck a match and dropped it in the center of our pile. The first raindrop fell. I looked up, not realizing the storm clouds that had gathered overhead. The drizzle began before I had a chance to get the thing started. It may sound childish, but inside me I began to feel a wild disappointment starting to swell. After a few minutes of failed attempts, I was planning alternatives to salvage the evening and share it in a way that sounded equally exciting. At that moment, I had the distinct impression to ask Daniel to pray for the fire. Doctrine took over, and I dismissed it as wishful thinking . . . but the thought sharpened and poked me again instead of floating away. Again, I resisted as the drizzle turn into a steady rain. As I got up to leave, the words burst from my lips somehow - a request for him to pray for the fire. He gave me a confused look, glanced up at the sky then down at the fire, and back to me. He bowed his head and prayed a simple prayer for God to let us have a fire for our hobo pies.
My heart raced as I opened my eyes and stared at the pit.
(Read the rest at WTNESS.ORG)
mO Thomas
Ford Motor Company, Dearborn, Michigan
Editor's note: See this other submission by Mo Thomas.
"In his first encounter with any church, Michigan teen has back and legs healed"
