I spent a considerable amount of the last week crying, trying not to cry, or trying to look like I hadn’t been crying. Based on the looks and hugs I got I did a fairly bad job of all three. They were not sad tears, or happy tears, or anything of exhausted, overwhelmed, “my life’s changing and I think I don’t have a choice” tears.

I danced with people after knowing them for mere minutes, trusted them with my aspirations and dreams and fears and struggles.

I lifted my hands and voice and prayer, laughed at bad jokes, jumped up and down when bylaw amendments passed, and talked about theology and youth empowerment and nannying while walking in the soupy heat of North Carolina.

I was hurt by things people said to me, and lifted up out of that hurt by the amazing and nurturing words of others. And a few times I had to step back and find one of the folks I had known for more than 3 days and just take some deep breaths.

I had a really amazing General Assembly.

I met up with a graduate from my college, the only one to go on to ordained Unitarian Universalist ministry, and we talked for quite awhile about ministry and process and trust.

I saw friends from Boston who were able to center me just with their presence and kind smiles.

I met young adults who were just as passionate about our religious traditions as I am.

I can’t wait to go back.


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