After I finished typing my journal last night, I tried to go to sleep. The doors shook in their frames whenever a draft would run through the building. I wanted to think it was a draft, because it seemed more like a persistent ghost was tapping at my doors. I got kind of scared, so I flipped on the light and tried to fix the problem. I unfolded the towels and wedged them into the door frames. I kept the light on and read the magazines some more.

I tried to go to sleep again, but the doors kept shaking. In desperation, I pushed my furniture against the doors to keep them from shaking. I guess it’s kind of silly now that I think about it, but it was a huge building and for all I knew, I was the only one there. The furniture kept the doors from shaking, and I fell asleep.

I slept in this morning, then took a walk around the town. I didn’t have much time, so I just walked around Wal Mart. I do this whenever I can, because Wal-Mart is always the same, no matter what town you are in.; I always imagine that I am back at home, fooling around on a lazy weekend afternoon.; t our local Wal-Mart. Then I walked around the neighborhood looking at the houses, getting a glimpse of the lives of people I don’t know.

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The rally this afternoon was a diocesan-wide event for teenagers called “Crossroads”.; I was happy to see that a couple hundred teenagers came to the event. Although every teenager is important, it’s emotionally difficult to leave home and travel across the country to speak to a small group.

After waiting all afternoon to do my thing, I was excited to finally get on stage and connect with the teenagers. I was startled when I looked out into the crowd because there were a dozen kids who ten and younger. Why would you bring your nine-year-old daughter to an event aimed at high school kids?

Throughout the whole talk, I had to censor myself so I wouldn’t scandalize the kids. I could hardly talk about the big issue of teenage life: sex. I had to use complicated words or substitute silly words so that the kids would not understand. I hope I didn’t lose credibility with the teenagers. It’s not even about credibility–it’s about meeting teens where they are.

I met the Vocations Director for the diocese today: a strong, bright-eyed priest in his early forties. He said the Mass this afternoon at the rally. His homily was fascinating and relevant. He has the heart of a fighter and you can feel it in every word he spoke. It was painful to know that so few guys are following in the footsteps of guys like him. Of the two guys I spoke to over the weekend who were considering the seminary, neither was admirable. They were both fragile and aimless. That’s hardly the priest we need tomorrow.

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The quick flight from Lacrosse to here in Minneapolis was pretty. The airport in Lacrosse is on a small island in the middle of the Mississippi. The setting sun torched the pockets of water beneath us as we flew up into the clouds and I couldn’t see anymore. Thirty minutes later, we were back beneath the clouds on our descent into Minneapolis.

It’s always interesting to look at the lives of people from above. There are baseball fields, neighborhood playgrounds, and big backyards with pools. Those are the fun places in people’s lives, all lives different from my own. Along the lakes you see the bigger homes reserved for the people who’ve made more money. I’m sure they moan about the behavior of the people in smaller homes on the other side of town.

I’m here again at my favorite coffee shop in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport. I was here two weeks ago at the same table. My plane won’t leave for another hour, so I’ll stay curled up at this table and sip my coffee and pass the time.