Well, I guess I didn't have to look much farther than my backyard (in this case, the Moore patio) to find a thin place. I sat with some of my friends (old and new) and we watched the clouds turn pink, then gray, then white, and eventually fade away to reveal the rich blue night sky. We spent hours in conversation, the group waxing and waning, simply enjoying the beautiful evening and each others' company. It reminded me of being at camp--the citronella candle on the table serving as a makeshift campfire and the returning students telling the Juniors legends of students who'd graduated. Every once in awhile the conversation would dissipate and we would stare pensively at the flickering flame, lost in our thoughts. At one point I caught myself thinking, "I'm really going to miss this."
Change. It's such a complex thing. I know I'm not the only one, but I have a really hard time letting go. Both in college and now also in seminary I have had times when meeting a person for the first time where I find myself already beginning to grieve because I know that our time together is limited. Of course, I know that this is a completely ridiculous way to approach things, and yet it continues to happen. I know all-too-well the brevity of life, and am afraid to miss any moment of it, no matter how small or insignificant.
So tonight I am paying tribute to evenings spent in conversation, both with friends I am just getting to know and with those who have moved on. I am blessed to be and to have been on this journey with you all.