Where There’s Smoke

It was a cool night in late spring and for some reason I was the only one sitting by the fire. My sister, brother-in-law, and nieces were elsewhere in camp. It was just me and my journal.

Despite the ample lumber teepee propped amongst the flames, I watched the fire slowly descend unto itself and turn to embers and smoke.

My immediate reaction was to throw more wood on; blow on it; try to get it back. No success.

I went to get my brother-in-law for help, leaving the fire unattended for several minutes.

When we returned, the embers had lit the wood and the fire was lapping the air in ferocious flicks. At the time I had a mini epiphany that maybe if I treated my relationships like the fire, they’d heat up. If I just left things alone and let them develop on their own, they’d end up where I wanted them. I sat back down and wrote about this in my journal.

When I talked to my boss about working abroad back on May 12, I could see the flames around me shrinking. For over a month, it was smoke and a few glowing coals. No answers. No light. A lot of tension and drafty feelings as I wondered whether the fire would somehow get stoked.

Closed-door meetings and exasperated glances followed. And I just had to wait to see if time and some oxygen might do the trick.

I am relieved to report that the fire is still going. It’s a little sputtery right now, but I should have enough of a blaze to keep me warm during the next 7 weeks.