I went home for the first "real" time, since starting seminary, for Thanksgiving last week. I say it's the first "real" time, because I did stop at my house for about 45 minutes to drop off my dog on our way to Luther Bowl in Gettysburg. I slept, ate, shopped, watched crappy television and spent quality time with my family.
The weirdest thing about being home though was knowing what I was coming back to, here in Chicago. I remember leaving my house to come to seminary. I packed up my car, put my dog in the front seat, hugged my mom and brother goodbye, then drove down our driveway. I started to cry a little, realizing that I didn't know what I was getting myself into. What classes would I take? What would my professors be like? Would I be prepared academically for seminary? What would my apartment and roommate be like?
Yesterday, after I packed my car and put Steve in the front seat, I hugged my mom and said that I'll be home soon. I also said, "It's fine, Mom. I know where I'm going now." It was pretty cool to know what I was returning to this time.