Rob Can't Be Trusted, Or Can He?

Friday night I was lying in my bunk within "Bunkhouse 1" at the Methodist Conference Center there in Eva, Tennessee, just beginning to settle in around 10 PM.  One of my two bunkmates (within the 16-man capacity bunkhouse) had also turned in for the night around the same time.  His bunk was on the opposite end of the sizable room, and I remember him graciously asking me if I'd brought "the sleep machine" (white noise generator).  Everyone was obviously tired that night from the travel day, including he and I.

It was so quiet in there, and my bottom bunk was comfy.  I breathed deep, anticipating sleep and FINALLY my fourth (or fifth?) Samson Society retreat to enjoy.

Then my bunkmate did the unexpected.  At the time, it seemed a little odd, but I was so tired that I simply wasn't cognizant to anyone else but my own self and what I was feeling.

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The Samson Society retreat draws many men who are in serious PRESENT crisis.  My bunkmate was one of those, but of course, I didn't know this at the time.  Many of the men who attend are reeling from the trauma resulting from recent or somewhat recent poor choices.  Therefore, marriages tend to be in shambles regarding these specific Samson guys.  Hence, they've come to the retreat for intensive care all around.

Earlier that evening, I'd had the privilege to tell a snippet of my story to the retreat attendees.  That's important to know here.  And that snippet was enough to identify Rob as a potential liability.

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I like to interrupt / complicate.  I've stated that in the past.  Taking risks related to this is the most potent means for me to feel masculine.  But, when I do choose to disclose my sexuality or otherwise, I make myself much more vulnerable to rejection than the average straight guy.  Particularly within a Christian setting.  For homosexuals are typically seen as enemies of the Christian faith.  It's just how it is for such a time as this.

So, back to Friday night at "Lights Out" (for Evan and I) there in "Bunkhouse 1".

A few seconds passed, and I could already feel myself drifting off before he spoke up through the dark. 

One of things I pick up on are voices, but especially so when I can't see the source of the voice (like when I'm talking on the telephone).  In this case, I really hadn't obtained a good look at my bunkmate before we turned in, therefore the pitch and vocal inflections / dialect were all I had to work with.  

As a side note, if I had to relinquish either my eyes or ears (vision or hearing), I'd give up my eyes in a heartbeat.  Hearing the world is a far richer experience than seeing it.

With his distinctly non-Southern dialect, Evan called out to me before asking for me to pray with him there in the dark.

Here we were lying on our backs within our separate bunks, stationed on opposite ends of "Bunkhouse 1", and this stranger asks me to pray with him.  

So I did.  And he reciprocated with his own prayer, and then we went fast asleep as the prayer went up.  And I mean it shot up like a freakin' rocket.

For me, it was the sweetest experience of the weekend, and truly served as a foreshadowing of so much goodness and relevancy that came out of the three days.  

For whatever reason (maybe it's a middle-age thing), I don't get goose-bumps anymore, but if I still did, this experience would have qualified.  I'll love it and will cherish this memory forever.  Thanks be to God.