Last night a clutch of us lingered by the campfire and sang songs like The Boxer and I Would Walk 500 Miles. In case you were worried no wood was harmed in the process. This place is too cutting edge for logs.  Instead of cheat sheets the people who didn't know the words crowded around a laptop. John and I relied on our memories which came through surprisingly well considering the time that has elapsed since we last belted out those lyrics. When we forgot the right ones we hummed. 

The staff was supremely apologetic about the lack of heat in a few of the rooms and offered to relocate us. No one budged. She seemed surprised but we had checked our phones. It was 2 degrees for the families we left behind. Extra blankets would do nicely. 

But they did get my attention when they mentioned the snakes that like to sunbathe on the rocks. 

"Leave them alone and they won't bother you."

The people who have gathered here are dear to me. We have prayed and laughed and broken bread together over the years. I have been to some of their weddings and held their babies and heard their dreams. Shared history is not quickly dispensed like the boarding passes we got from a kiosk at the airport. It has slow growth and cannot be rushed. 

One of the thoughts that can slither into marriages and friendships is comparison. 

"They are happier than me."

"His congregation is bigger than ours."

"Their children are more successful than ours."

But the staff is right. Leave the snakes alone and they won't bother you.