A Knight's Armor
By Karen Connelly '05

As co-editor for A Knight’s Armor magazine, I have had the wonderful opportunity to mix my enjoyment of reading and writing with a way to share my faith and express my commitment to Jesus Christ.  We’ve been working hard all year, and particularly in the past two months since returning from Christmas Break, to put together a magazine that is representative of the Wartburg community and that allows Wartburg students to share their faith with others in the form of written and artistic works.  It has been a joy to be a leader of such a fine group of people and help to present what I anticipate to be a wonderful finished product.  I am happy to share two of my favorite pieces with Wartburg Writes, and I hope you will take time to read this year’s A Knight’s Armor when we distribute it at the beginning of April.

Ballad of a Camp Counselor
by Lydia Posselt, ‘07

Sunday afternoon is here—
How does it come so soon?
I have a feeling that this week
Shall bring about my doom.

The cars arrive—”They’re here! They’re here!”
Turn on the counselor grin.
This facade of perkiness
Should really be a sin.

“Welcome to camp! I’ll be your guide!
Here’s where you’ll be staying!”
The looks of disgust upon their faces
Already has me praying.

The bags are piled miles high—
They only stay a week!
Maybeline and Abercrombie
Makes me want to shriek.

On Monday, at the buddy board
“The Buddy Nazi,” I
Made sure the kids had left the beach,
All nice and safe and dry.

The lost camper alarm sounded.
The counselors jumped into the lake.
We worried not of soggy clothes
With campers’ lives at stake.

We searched and searched until we found
The camper, dry, aloft—
Had not checked off the buddy board,
But simply wandered off.

Tuesday night was campout time—
My girls were not impressed.
The tents, the fire, the great outdoors
Must not have passed their test.

I couldn’t get the fire going—
It took ‘bout half the book.
Lament, they, for McDonald’s fare—
Apparently I couldn’t cook.

Suddenly the rain came down
And soaked us all quite through.
They huddled in their leaky tents,
What was I to do?

Wednesday came; we’re halfway done—
But minutes passed like hours.
Counselors wearing surgical masks?
Campers thought that we had SARS.

What else could go wrong today?
Hadn’t we enough?
Turns out that they were quarantined
With the whooping cough.

Thursday: Eros ran rampant—
It’s been going on for days.
“Hey! I want to go out with you—
I’ve known you for four days!

Batting eyes at all the boys
And dressing like a tramp
Makes me want to scream at them:
“Hey ladies, it’s church camp!”

They thought it was a clever plan—
To take canoes, their ploy—
And paddle to the lakeshore side
And make out with the boys.



Fiction:

A Tragedy of Faith

by  Katie Bollenbach ‘05



I love him more than words can say.  I look in his eyes and the twinkle makes my heart spin.  I can tell when he enters a room even if I don’t see him come in; I am attuned to him.  He is my anchor and my star to hook my dreams on.  He is my first thought in the morning and my last thought before I sleep.



And we are together.  As much as we can, as often as we can, we spend time together, doing whatever, just reveling in each other’s presence.  We watch movies and take walks, we talk and we share the silence in the soul of dusk.  We listen to music and the wind moving through the trees, the birds outside and the steady rhythm of the voices around us, a comforting murmur. His arm around me as we sit on a couch at a party, as we hike across town in a snow flurry, as we sit against the wall at somebody’s house, debating with the others.



And with each other.  And I am reminded, yet again, that this cannot be forever, because we have different paths to follow.  This cannot be forever because we would hurt each other horribly if we tried.  This cannot be forever, simply, because he cannot bear to believe in the God I cannot bear to not believe in.  And that, in the end, will kill us, because I will preach my beliefs as my calling and he will feel more hypocritical day by day.



And he makes a joke, in the world surrounding us and not within my thoughts, and I smile and lean back into him, content to pretend for just a moment longer, and another, and just one, slightly longer, moment longer.



I have to give this up, but I can’t.  I must give him up, but I don’t want to.  But I do want to, because if I don’t it will end badly, and I cannot bear to have that happen.  And he cannot end it because he does not see the problem.  And so I will end this, but not yet.  Just another day, one more day.



One more day

Of his smiles to boost my ego,

Of his winks to make me laugh,

Of his eyes to drown my sorrows,

Of his quips to show he’s daft.



One last day

Of his hands to knead my back,

Of his sighs to tear my heart,

Of his skills to match my knacks,

Of his oath to never part.



And so I must choose: my God or my soul mate.  And I have chosen.  I just haven’t told him yet.  I don’t need to, not yet, we have time.  I want to have that time, to keep and remember, because I have this horrible feeling I’ll never have this again and I want this to remember.



I will tell him.



Won’t I?

Karen Connelly '05 is a mathematics and mathematics education major at Wartburg College.