For two summers in a row, I spent my afternoons shooting clay pigeons and my evenings checking my body for wood ticks.
I always seemed to be the only girl at bible camp who took an unusual interest in taking lessons at the gun range.
While other girls in my cabin signed up for water skiing or jewelry making classes…I had one eye shut and the other focused on an empty can of RC Cola a few yards away.
It’s not that I was a tom boy.
It was because of a boy.
His name was Toby. He was a camp counselor and the object of my gun-toting affection.
He was in charge at the shooting range.
A couple of days into camp, while hanging out in my bunk, I heard rumors that Toby was dating my camp councilor, Kristin.
I was more intrigued than I was distraught.
You see, I was in middle school and they were in high school so I knew my infatuation with him was just that.
I wanted details, though. Are they going to continue dating after camp? Is Toby a good kisser? Does he smell good?
I’d see them eating candy at the canteen together or sitting by each other during evening sermons.
A bible camp romance.
Before the sun set on another summer at camp, one of the girls in my cabin and I asked Kristin about their relationship.
They didn’t kiss, she said. Or hold hands.
I guess bible camp isn’t a dirty free for all like they portray band camp in the movies.
Still, I would have signed up for any activity Toby lead. In retrospect, target practice wasn’t a bad skill to learn.
And to this day, I won’t turn down the opportunity to show off my skills that stem from an unattainable crush at a bible camp in Northern Minnesota.