Bonfires have always been one of my favorite things. Last night may have been an exception. Hiking across a field in the dark to stand around in the rain with people I don’t know while mosquitoes eat me alive… it was certainly an adventure. The bonfire itself was not that impressive either. Still, it was a fire and that’s all that matters.
I love fire because while on the one hand, you always know what it’s going to do (burn until it runs out of fuel), on the other hand, you never know what it’s going to do (burn things you didn’t want to be fuel). Life is pretty much the same deal—beautifully dangerous.
Fire scares me. This may sound rather Freudian, but I had several bad experiences with flames and hot surfaces as a child, so now I keep my distance. I do admire it, though. Life has burned me multiple times as well, but I still love it, even when I’m keeping my distance. When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to be an archaeologist and travel the world solving ancient mysteries—which is actually slightly similar to being a librarian.
I never would have dreamed the life that I currently have or the difficult situations that have put me here. As I watched the fire last night, I could not help but be reminded that “as surely as sparks fly upward, so man is born to trouble.” We should expect life to be full of trouble, burning things we did not expect. Eventually, however, it will be extinguished, leaving only the memory of its warm glow.