Gene and Zion each had their initiation campouts at the family land in Arkansas. Brave's is happening tonight, here in East Asia, on our rooftop under a city sky. There is a tent, there are sleeping bags. There is a fire (in a mess-hall-sized iron wok) and there are marshmallows roasting on the ends of long, green, bamboo poles.
There is story-telling going on up there. There is wisdom-sharing. I am not allowed up there, of course, except to deliver large glasses of sweet tea to my husband and his friend, John, whose son, Zeb, is the honorary campout guest. When I went up there last, I had to stop just outside the rooftop door and wait until they were finished praying.
Manhood, in all of its stages, is a sweet thing.
