good to be home

We're back from the retreat. We survived. As usuall, I'll post pictures and tell some stories in a few days when I get the photos from Matt.

Its nice to get back to . . .

. . . warmer weather. It was cold again up on the mountain.

. . . my bed.

. . . a nice hot shower.

. . . a quiet bedroom that doesn't contain 23 loud high school boys.

. . . Robin. She was there too, but we didn't get to spend much time together.

. . . my guitar. Again, it was there and I played it some (actually a few different guitars), but I didn't get to really play it. You know?

Ok, I suppose I have time for one story, but the punchline is probably not worth the setup. I'll give it a whirl anyway. During the retreat, they were playing a game (kinda like Mafia) in which there were a few students secretly designated as killers. The killers could "kill" anyone who was not accompanied by another person during the course of the day. One of the main goals of the game was to promote unity. Well on Friday afternoon I was up in the boys room, and I saw one of the students by himself . . . we'll call him Esteban (because that's his name). Esteban was not feeling well. I talked to him for a few minutes about how he felt and told him to lie down and rest. As I was about to leave he asked, "Can someone kill me now?" He, of course, was referring to the game because he was all alone in the room. I didn't put it all together in my head quick enough.

My reply: Aw. Do you really feel that bad?