I’ve had to catch my breath a bit after living out of a duffel bag the last five weeks.  What a whirlwind, amazing five weeks it has been, too.  There is so much to tell that I’m afraid I could type a novel overnight.

First, Alaska.  My family.  Amazing.  I’m saying “amazing” a lot lately but words can’t even begin to describe (maybe I should use that online thesaurus option I have).  It was especially neat to spend time with my nephew Mike and his wife (my niece-in-law?) Emilie, and their two adorable children (my great-niece and great-nephew!).  My great-niece is three now and we hit it off pretty well this time around at home.  At three years old she is a natural micromanager.  For example, while sitting at the kitchen table coloring together, she made it clear which colors to use when and where and which colors I was not to use.  Look out Big Fortune 500s.

Three weeks wasn’t nearly enough time at home but in that time I was able to spend quality time with my folks.  Every time I leave home and come back they age just a little more.  Not so much in looks, but in their behavior.  My mom’s cholitis/IBS is almost unmanageable, which worries me.  She is so tiny now that she must buy her jeans in the “junior miss” department while my dad continues to gain weight.  I was able to spend some precious time with a few close friends, one of which made sure I spent at least two evenings out at fine dining establishments.  I was very spoiled and very blessed.

All too quickly I found myself back on a plane headed to the Midwest… by way of Las Vegas.  This was sort of a fluke, but the airline’s hub city is Vegas.  So, I amused myself during my layover there wandering around in the casino masquerading as an airport, drinking my Starbucks Espresso Truffle (Crack) Latte, and staring out the large picture at The Strip which looked oddly out of place against the backdrop of the rugged brown mountains behind the mish-mash of highrise buildings, a sphinx, an ominous black pyramid, and the Eiffel Tower.  I had never been to Vegas before and now I see I’m going to have to make a trip down sometime to behold the spectacle that it is.

Back on the plane, this time to my final destination: Minneapolis.  I was met by my friend Scott; he and his partner Erik are excellent hosts.  That same evening my date came and picked me up.  He was better looking than his picture, I thought, and less intimidating.    I found him to be very warm, thoughtful, and even romantic.  I accompanied him to a local natural foods market where we shopped for the required ingredients for dinner, then went back to his place to cook it all up.  I can’t even remember everything that was served that evening except that it was all so delicious.  Even the presentation was impeccable.  It was certainly five-star quality cooking, hands down.  The conversation was even better, with soft jazz playing on the cable TV as a backdrop, we talked into the early hours of the morning.

All too quickly, my two days in Minneapolis drew to a close.  My date was gracious enough to offer to drive me down to Rochester where I was to meet up with a classmate from school.  From there, my classmate and I drove out to Pine Ridge, SD for our January term cross-cultural learning immersion experience.  What’s in Pine Ridge, you ask?  Pine Ridge is the commercial and judicial seat of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation and home of the Pine Ridge Retreat Center.  We spent two weeks there, along with students from two other seminaries, learning about the Lakota history, culture, and worldview as well as touring agencies and organizations on the Rez which are working to make a difference in the lives of the people who live there.  The county in which Pine Ridge is situated is the poorest county in the United States; it is not uncommon for many families to earn an average of $6000 a year.  A YEAR.  Not to mention the shitty hand that was dealt to them by even placing them on a reservation in the first place.  This is the home of Wounded Knee.  Of Black Elk.  Of Crazy Horse.  To say that standing at the Wounded Knee memorial or gazing up at the faces of dead presidents carved into the side of sacred hills which were taken from the Lakota in a shoddy act of legislation by the United States wasn’t seriously depressing is an understatement.  At the same time, though, there is so much happening on the Rez that gives me hope.  I could sense God’s presence there in the midst of seeming hopelessness.  I met so many beautiful souls during my stay there, it was incredibly difficult to leave.

But leave we did.  12 hours in a car later, I am back at my seminary and feeling a little lost and overwhelmed by God’s goodness from all I have seen and experienced all at the same time.  I’m also trying not to think about how much cleaning I have to do in my room tomorrow.  If I squeeze my eyes shut maybe it will all go away.  LOL.