Midwest fall

Walking around slightly delusional, around some quiet neighborhood in Minneapolis, trying not to stray too far away from my friend’s apartment, I thought about what it might be like to live in the Midwest for a little while.

Not too long, maybe like, a month. Maybe two.

And perhaps I did wonder how I would feel if God called me to live here for a longer while. But I don’t think that’s the case right now, nor do I think it will be in the near future.

I thought Seattle fall colors were beautiful until I came here. The oranges orange more here. So do the greens. Different colored trees mix amongst each other creating vibrant patterns and streaks in the passenger window as you zoom by.

I have a lot of friends here. Work is here. St. Paul has a Seattle-vibe with its various coffee shops and ease of walkability. It’s also much quieter.

Work will take me here often throughout the year, but I fear that every goodbye will be harder and harder. I wish to get to know the people on a deeper level that isn’t just in the little conversations during training or retreat prep, though don’t get me wrong—those have been absolutely lovely.

I want to hear my friend’s story about taking private vows next year. I want to hear about people’s likes and interests outside of their jobs. How is your novel going? Can you tell me more about this part of your journey?

It is nice to know I have so many close connections thousands of miles away from me. It’s nice to know there’s so many more beautiful things to learn about these people. And yes, I think being sick does tend to make me a bit more sappy than usual. Still, I soak it in. The sadness of missing folks and the joy of knowing it is certain I will see them again, these are all feelings I am grateful for.

From Lizzy McAlpine’s Over Country: