Everyone is cold in Denver

I had a great christmas trip home. I loved getting to see my family again, remembering just how much yelling and whining happens in a house with three generations of women, and seeing uncles and aunts and cousins galore. It was restful and amazing... I didn't touch a guitar once!

I got to visit some of the people who were instrumental in my formative years of Christianity. It was great... I saw this old man, for maybe just a few seconds, and he asked me how and what I was doing. I told him that I was doing great, and what I was doing, and he starts kinda laughing and crying, and tells me "We've been praying for you so much!" I think they got me in this drawing to see who would pray for which kid back when I went to camp in 2001 and first truly felt like I may be called to ministry. I am glad that me not sucking too badly at life can encourage an old prayer warrior like that :).

The trip home was kinda crazy, though. I nearly didn't make it out of Houston, which is where my first connecting flight took me. I had to change airlines, go to this detatched terminal that could only be reached by an awkwardly placed bus line that pretty much drove us around the tarmac and left us at a terminal skywalk that had been modified to lead to the ground. Then I had to go back through security with 20 minutes left until my flight, and got a bag check because I had left a bottle of water in there. Apparently those are dangerous.

By the time I was in Denver (the second connection), waiting for my delayed flight, I began to miss home a lot. The Denver airport is a miserable place to feel lonely. Everyone is bundled up, and people are laying everywhere waiting for delayed flights, and there are so many people alone there. You start to imagine that everyone is just as lonely as you, that the cold they are fighting is just as much inside of them as it is in the air around them.

Then I got home, and quickly decided that home is awesome, whether it is Arizona or Texas... and that everyone is cold in Denver, and I don't want to be there again.