There is something magical about bubbles, no matter how old you are. At weddings, small containers are given out so that the beautiful, floating orbs can be blown upon the newly weds. Bubbles arise when kids blow too hard through the straw of their chocolate milk. And sometimes, when there’s enough heat behind it, water will boil and bubbles will be present. There’s just something special about bubbles.
A few days ago, a friend of mine passed away. It was sudden, and it didn’t seem like her time to go. She died only a day before she was supposed to graduate the Leadership Training Program at Camp Joy El, where I met her.
I’m here to tell you that she was bubbles.
I didn’t know her as well as I would have liked to have known her. My first year working at camp, I had no idea how to handle the campers, but she taught me. The most I remember of her was the affectionate name she called her best friend, and how they were always together.
Bubbles come in different forms. Sometimes, they boil over like hot water. This girl was fueled by her love for God, and that joy was overflowing any time I saw her. This isn’t to say she didn’t go through really difficult times: only to say that any time I saw her, there was the Lord’s joy. Her passion for God made her boil over into her camper’s lives, and I know that joy touched many of them.
Sometimes, bubbles float unexpectedly through the air, swirling and dancing until they reach a single blade of grass, and then they pop. This girl was capable of this bubbliness, this ability to send a bit of joy to some unsuspecting person and impact them. To touch their lives. To change them.
I am in a bubble. None of this feels real. It feels like a dream; or more honestly, a nightmare; that I won’t see her again on this earth. And I’m not sure I want this bubble to pop.
What I do know is that Heaven has gained a beautiful heart for worship who, to me, was bubbles.
Rest in peace, dear girl.