Places of Shelter

(I wrote this for the CSB/SJU Record)

I woke up Saturday morning and growled at the temperature.

My legs were itching for a run, but the rest of my body said,” Absolutely not. You are not going outside.”

The thought of running outside with snot icicles hanging from my nose and frost growing around my eyelashes made me pull the covers back over my head.

Then I remembered there was a peace vigil taking place on the footbridge over highway I-94 that afternoon.

Campus ministry advertised it in an e-mail last week, when icicles were dripping from the roof of the quad and puddles were forming on the sidewalk. I nonchalantly scribbled it on my calendar, forgetting the nature of impulsive Minnesota winters.

The memo was still there Saturday morning when I raised my eyebrow at the thermometer.

My friend Lynsi Pasutti, despite being skeptical about the temperature herself, thought we should go anyway. So we left the safety of our warm apartments and headed down highway I-94. Maybe this sounds over-dramatic, but we shivered the whole way.

The vigil was ending early when we arrived, due to the frigid winds blowing over the exposed bridge and a gallon tub of hot chocolate waiting in somebody’s car. Four brave vigilantes greeted us with encouraging smiles when they saw us.

“We’re going to do this again,” they promised as homemade posters were piled into the truck of a car and somebody poured Lynsi and I a cup of cocoa. Seeing their excited faces made up for my cold toes. It felt good to show up for something.

Lately when my legs start itching, I run away from things that I’ve committed myself to doing, like reading assignments or my laundry or even spending time with friends.

I spent Saturday night in the Seton apartment telling ghost stories, lingering until 3 am, partly because the of the good company and partly because the thought of driving back to Saint Bens was unwelcoming.

I find myself searching for the woman I was in Europe who was braver and louder than this Midwestern version. Which might explain whey I braved the cold with Lynsi. It was all for the challenge.

The cold weather also drew me into places of shelter where my friends were waiting and reminded me that while Greece offered ancient temples, mouth watering tomatoes and quite nights spent near the ocean, it also kept me from friends who care enough to offer their apartment on a cold February night, friends who’ve traveled the world.

I’ll still be restless this spring. Maybe when the snow starts melting again, I’ll need to time to escape into the Arboretum, but there is a lesson in everything. I appreciate the cold for it’s ability to draw people together.