I watched as one teenager after another climbed the high platform, hooked into the harness, and jumped with a whoosh into the trees. This was the last course at T Bar M camp, where I volunteered with a youth ministry and mentored a group of girls. All mine had been through it and survived, so had the boys. My feet were very happy planted firmly on the ground.
“It’s called the Screamer or the Breath-Taker. You see, people either scream their lungs out or not make a sound at all. Which one do you think you are?” The camp supervisor had meant well but I was not eager to find out.
But then this little whisper bubbled to the surface. “Face your fear; don’t leave here without trying.”…
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