Lightning bugs

Lightning bugs make me cry. Four years ago, as Kristen and I were at a training camp in southern Illinois before leaving for our prayer journey to Scotland, we found ourselves sitting in the grass next to a pasture at sunset, disclosing some of our most deeply rooted hopes and fears of the future. That night marked a new phase in our friendship: a transition from friends who enjoy one another's company to friends who trust, love, and need each other. And that night we delighted in lightning bugs. It was the end of May, so the fireflies should not have been that prevalent, but they were there all the same. And ever since then, summer nights and lightning bugs take me back to memories of time spent with Kristen, and I miss her painfully. My head keeps telling me that I am going to make so many new friends soon, but the other part of me jerks back like a little kid and exclaims, "I would rather just be with my old ones." And so it goes, life continues, and I will embrace the new friends in my life. I still miss my old ones though.