The Kitchen Floor

I'm sitting on a cluttered kitchen floor in downtown Minneapolis. It's the kitchen floor that I was upposed to have shared this year, but due to my move, won't be. Jesse and Richard got into town today, and I picked them up after they dropped off their rental at the airport. That was an interesting trip. I'm in another car because of it, as the muffler fell off of mine when I went over the lightrail tracks by the Mall of America. Hmmm. Way to go, public transportation. You took me out.

Back to the kitchen. The kitchen is a really sad reality for me. I won't be living here this year. The plans that Jesse and I made to live here and finish out school here are done. Gone. Or, at least on hold for a year for me. No rooming with Richard, the late blooming friend. No mornings where I roll out of bed five minutes before Music Theory and shower three minutes before chapel, making it just in time to get credit. No 3 a.m. nights sitting around with ten people in the room acting like we can actually learn something from books at that time of night.

No, I'm leaving my friends. I'm leaving a place I love. I'm leaving what God is doing here - and he is doing something here, preparing Pentecostal spirit filled believers - and I'm heading to a country tha has 14,000 people, the majority of whom are Godless or Mormon. I'm going where I know someone. Everything, EVERYTHING will be unfamiliar. I can't even take much stuff... pretty much just my laptop and clothes. And this is hard. It's harder than going to college. That was easy, because no one knew anyone and everyone was desperate for good company. I'm going in new. I grew up in a small town, and man, small towns are hard to move into. Everyone has their set ways in small towns... which is part of the reason they're small.

If I didn't have one motivating, driving reason to move to Utah, I wouldn't. Man, this year is gonna be hard. But it's gonna be rewarding in the end.