Night Church and Snoring.

The two obviously go together, right? Well, maybe to the untrained eye, they seem like a randomn noun and verb placed together with a super cool conjunction. But I promise they are connected.

You see, my dads snore. Not obnoxiously, or in any omygodthereisabearinthehouse sort of way. They snore in the sweet, I'm-safe-here sort of way. I came home the other night, after a long evening of hanging out with friends and other misadventures, and as I walked through the kitchen, I heard the soft rumbles. I got closer to their bedroom and sure enough, they were sound asleep. And I felt safe. The same way I feel when I hear my dad cough in the morning in the bathroom growing up. He does it every morning after he gets up. Just part of the routine. Or the way I would listen to my mother walk around downstairs in the early hours before I had to get up. Safe. At home.

The next night or so, I discovered night church (or NatKirke, in Danish). I went to Our Lady of Copenhagen Cathedral on a whim and entered a candle light beacon of peace. Quiet, but not dead. Peaceful, not sad. You could go light candles, sit and pray, or just be. Every 7 or 8 minutes, a soloist would sing a prayer for a couple of minutes then the church would again plunge into reflective silence.

And I found it there. Home.

This past week has been rough. After three amazing weeks around Europe, coming back to Copenhagen and realizing the amount of work I have left has been nothing less than daunting. That in addition to missing home has really just worked its magic on me.

But these two highlights reminded me that home is here and at Elon and in Fairburn. Home can be where you feel safe and wanted and loved. I'm that with my parents. I'm that at Elon. And I'm that here.

I can make it for sure.

blessings.
jon.