session ahead of his roommates and had settled onto a chair surrounded by students from a church in Boise. He recognized most of them from the previous year. But it wasnât their familiarity or the church they attended that drew him into their midst. It was something else. He just couldnât say what. It was simply afeeling that he needed to be there. A strong, deep-down feeling he couldnât ignore.
The guy on his right introduced himselfâMarkâthen asked a few sociable questions. Normally, Brad wasnât comfortable in get-acquainted situations like this one. There wasnât a lot to say about himself. He wasnât involved in team sports, although he enjoyed watching football. He was a good student and liked to read. He liked to hang out with the friends heâd known all his life but steered clear of the kinds of things that had gotten some of them into trouble. His favorite thing to do was play the drums and he dreamed of being good enough to be in a band someday. But for some reason, he was at ease with Mark and didnât mind answering the older boyâs questions.
As more camp attendees filled up the rows of chairs in the lodge, the worship team made its way onto the small stage. After a few minutes of tuning guitars and adjusting speakers, they began to play. Softly at first. Then young people around the room began to rise to their feet and sing along. Words for the song appeared on an overhead screen.
Brad closed his eyes, a strange feeling stirring in his chest. A feeling he couldnât put a name to. Something heâd never felt before, that was for sure.
It wasnât as if the worship songâand then the next one and the next oneâwas unfamiliar to him. The church heâd attended his entire life, beginning in the nursery at two weeks old, sang contemporary worship songs as well as old hymns. Heâd been around plenty of people who talked aboutGod on a regular basis. But even so, something was different tonight. Or maybe it was an expectation that something was about to change.
That he was about to change.
Chapter 4
T HE K INGS M EADOW A NNUAL C HRISTMAS B AZAAR was held on the first Saturday in December. For the past three years, Penny had been in charge of the event. Sheâd been thankful for the volunteer job this year. It had kept her from dwelling on Bradâs death, at least some of the time. Today she was especially glad for it. There was a wonderful sense of community in the fellowship hall of the Methodist church, and it warmed her heart, made her feel almost whole, even put her in a little bit of the Christmas spirit. Perhaps it was seeing so much creativity in one place that did it.
Buck Malone and Antton Zubiar had a table full of leather goods. Plus they were holding a raffle for one of Buckâs handcrafted saddles, with all of the profits going to the food bank.
Bling was Skye Nicholsâs forte. Her booth featured handmade jewelry. Everything in it sparkled in the light that fellthrough the windows, threatening to blind people as they browsed.
Several women from Meadow Fellowship Church had a quilting booth, and the quilts hanging on the wall behind their counter were nothing short of stunning.
There was a booth with dolls and toy trucks, another with handmade baby clothes, and another with a plethora of knitted and crocheted goods.
The bazaar wasnât missing plenty of yummy food items either. Shoppers had choices of cookies, candy, pies, and cakes. Nothing like trying to gain the first couple of holiday pounds three weeks before Christmas.
The thought made Penny smile . . . just before she took a bite of a giant-sized snowman cookie. It tasted even better than expected. Food had held little appeal to her the past two months. It was a nice change to bite into something and discover enjoyment again. She continued to nibble on the cookie while she strolled around the room, ready to help if help was needed.
Her smile returned,