Little things I believe in.

Little things I believe in.

Tonight, briefly, I stood slightly in-the-way in a church kitchen surrounded by old-ish people and their macaroni and cornbread, while I got ready to head over to campus. A priest shared his plastic cup of beer with me, Arrogant Bastard of all things to find in such a setting.

He and I then left for campus, where seven of us sat around a makeshift altar and shared a quiet and beautiful eucharist service, probably the most intimate one I have ever experienced. The musician played some Sufjan, "Like a father to impress/Like a mother's mourning dress/If we ever make a mess/I'll do anything for you," and the wind rustled our pages and the eucalyptus leaves. It was cool and dark and otherwise silent, the campus still and collectively cowering in the dark recesses of their minds, or maybe just in the libraries, on this finals-eve. Part of me wishes we had hundreds of people attend, or at least tens of people, but the other part of me realizes that then we would never in a million years have the type of experience we had tonight.

I have been struggling with my faith and feeling lost and answer-less, un-engaged, for so long, and only tonight have I realized that I have just been looking in the wrong place, to the wrong people, to the wrong person. I assume I will write more on this one day but right now I'm liking being obtuse.

It's not very often that I get to share a beer and the cobwebbed corners of my soul with anyone, much less do so in a church kitchen or an empty nook of a college campus.

I am quickly realizing that I love my job.