Sat-Tues. Nov. 10-13
When I rolled my cart into the church parking lot several friends and family were waiting to see me off. After a few minutes of goodbyes it was time to go. Pastor Sean said a word of prayer, and I got a few final hugs. Mark Gumprecht gave me a ride over to the Greyhound station and I was on my way.
After a week and a half traveling by foot, it was surreal to stare out the bus window and see the landscape flashing by. It struck me that our world is a much bigger place than we give it credit for. There is virtually infinite detail in every inch, but at 60 miles an hour vast expanses of creation become monochrome points on a map only minutes from each other.
It's dark by time Boston lights come into view. The familiar bus terminal hasn't changed since I was traveling for college. I wait out my four-hour layover before boarding the bus to New York. It's into the wee morning hours when I reach New York and I'm longing for sleep. Finding my departure gate proves tricky since three different employees insist emphatically that my connection leaves from three different gates. The terminal is a run-down disorganized mess and nobody knows what's going on. There are several people in uniforms scattered around but none of them are doing anything. Everyone is angry and demanding; in a hurry for themselves, but in no hurry to help anyone else. I really loath this place. I have a four and a half hour layover.
There are people asleep on the floor all over the terminal. I find a spot behind an empty information booth and lay down on the tiles next to my cart with the pack on my chest. In case you were wondering, no, it's not comfortable... or sanitary. Still, I'm tired enough that I briefly doze off a few times. It's nearly sunrise by the time I leave the Big Apple.
It's almost noon when Eric Glidden picks me up in Silver Springs, Maryland. The sky is bright, sunny, and warm. Several years ago Eric and I were sent by our church for a survey trip to Senegal. We lived in a remote African village without running water or electricity for six weeks learning about the people and their culture. You get to know a person pretty well in a context like that. Eric is steady, strong, and genuine. He's here for a few years with his new wife Hannah who works at a naval hospital in the DC area, but he's always talking about wanting to go to seminary and become a pastor.
Monday morning Eric and I board the DC metro and head into the capitol. The day is spent walking around museums and national landmarks talking about government conspiracies and theological conundrums. That evening another old friend, Kristi, joins us for dinner and board games. Rain is predicted for Tuesday, so Eric and Hannah persuade me to stay another day. It's a quiet relaxing day sitting with Eric on his couch reading theology books and watching news, but my time here has come to an end. I pack up my gear for departure in the morning and get a good night's sleep for the 27 mile hike to go see Jessica and Jordan tomorrow.
When I rolled my cart into the church parking lot several friends and family were waiting to see me off. After a few minutes of goodbyes it was time to go. Pastor Sean said a word of prayer, and I got a few final hugs. Mark Gumprecht gave me a ride over to the Greyhound station and I was on my way.
After a week and a half traveling by foot, it was surreal to stare out the bus window and see the landscape flashing by. It struck me that our world is a much bigger place than we give it credit for. There is virtually infinite detail in every inch, but at 60 miles an hour vast expanses of creation become monochrome points on a map only minutes from each other.
It's dark by time Boston lights come into view. The familiar bus terminal hasn't changed since I was traveling for college. I wait out my four-hour layover before boarding the bus to New York. It's into the wee morning hours when I reach New York and I'm longing for sleep. Finding my departure gate proves tricky since three different employees insist emphatically that my connection leaves from three different gates. The terminal is a run-down disorganized mess and nobody knows what's going on. There are several people in uniforms scattered around but none of them are doing anything. Everyone is angry and demanding; in a hurry for themselves, but in no hurry to help anyone else. I really loath this place. I have a four and a half hour layover.
There are people asleep on the floor all over the terminal. I find a spot behind an empty information booth and lay down on the tiles next to my cart with the pack on my chest. In case you were wondering, no, it's not comfortable... or sanitary. Still, I'm tired enough that I briefly doze off a few times. It's nearly sunrise by the time I leave the Big Apple.
It's almost noon when Eric Glidden picks me up in Silver Springs, Maryland. The sky is bright, sunny, and warm. Several years ago Eric and I were sent by our church for a survey trip to Senegal. We lived in a remote African village without running water or electricity for six weeks learning about the people and their culture. You get to know a person pretty well in a context like that. Eric is steady, strong, and genuine. He's here for a few years with his new wife Hannah who works at a naval hospital in the DC area, but he's always talking about wanting to go to seminary and become a pastor.
Monday morning Eric and I board the DC metro and head into the capitol. The day is spent walking around museums and national landmarks talking about government conspiracies and theological conundrums. That evening another old friend, Kristi, joins us for dinner and board games. Rain is predicted for Tuesday, so Eric and Hannah persuade me to stay another day. It's a quiet relaxing day sitting with Eric on his couch reading theology books and watching news, but my time here has come to an end. I pack up my gear for departure in the morning and get a good night's sleep for the 27 mile hike to go see Jessica and Jordan tomorrow.
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