Thornbush!

The previous post is dedicated to Jannaya. A few hours ago I asked her what she thought about when holding Graham's hand. That was her response.

Anyway, this present post is dedicated to a flashback I recently had. It caused me to burst out smiling. (It wasn't hilarious enough to make me burst out laughing, but it was still pretty funny.)

I was fourteen years old and at a youth group event. Often the Frontier and Shaunavon youth groups would get together on Friday nights and have large games like capture the flag or kick the can. On this particular night we were playing capture the flag at Valley View Bible Camp, with my team stationed in a small, cleared-out area in the midst of some ridges and bushes on an upward slope. Not being much of an aggressor, I preferred to be near home base so I could catch the enemies without having to be too sneaky myself.

The game went on for quite awhile and it was growing dark. Still, it wasn't hard for me to recognize the form of my crush rising from a nearby ridge and trying to be stealthy on his way to my team's flag. I don't think he noticed me until I got up from where I was sitting and ran toward him, hoping I could be a hero by taking him prisoner. He turned on his heels and took off in the opposite direction, a tall scrawny blonde in hot pursuit whose feet were still a little bit bigger than she'd grown accustomed to. It was a shock to realize that I was suddenly airborne and turning so that my back was now facing the ground, but it was even worse to see that the ground was now beside me, yet I was still falling.

Then it happened: loud crackles and snaps and a surprisingly soft landing. After a quick review of this event and a glance up to see that the top of the ridge was just barely out of reach, my back, behind, and legs began to sting. The stinging grew worse by the second until it reached a plateau which was, thankfully, quite bearable.

Of course I'd fall into a thornbush. While chasing my crush, the dream of heroism in my head, I would fall into a thornbush. I tried pushing myself up, but it hurt too much and only made me sink in deeper. A minute passed. Then two. Then three. Then about half an hour. It was quite dark by now, and it occured to me that I could yell for help. Certainly someone would hear me, right? Especially those who were running right past me on the ridge. But I was either too shy or too embarrassed or too polite to holler. Probably a good mix of all three. The fear of being left behind was a little bothersome, but not enough so to make me shout out and admit my awkwardly helpless predicament to anyone, especially to all the hot youth group boys.

Finally another form came running along the ridge, and somehow this person noticed me lying a few feet lower than the path. I hated and loved him all at once for getting on his knees and saying, "Hey, do you need a hand?" Now I felt stupid for not yelling for help. I said yes, and he gave me his hand and pulled me out. "Why didn't you call for help?" he asked. "I don't know," I said quietly, pulling pricklies out of my legs. I knew it would take forever to be poke-free. I thanked him for helping me, then he asked if I'd let him off free since he was from the other team. I said yes, and he went his way and I went mine.

Moral of the story: Pride goes before a fall, and it doesn't always leave afterward!