I’m tired of travelling, but blessed.

The further north I go, the faster I move through time. Autumn was still waking in Georgia and South Carolina, while tunnels of flame-colored leaves in North Carolina and Virginia—vivid reds, bright yellows, deep shades of orange—morph into nearly leafless trees in Pennsylvania. I wonder what Boston will look like. Or Chicago.

My car travels the roads both day and night. Books-on-tape work better than toothpicks, but then I have to stop to hear the crickets chirp at night with the bright three-quarters moon overhead and a cool breeze hissing sibilantly through browning waist-high grass.

Peaceful. I wasn’t expecting peaceful.

I keep talking about art. And Germany. My calling, and my future. I answer questions. Sometimes I see confused expressions. Doubt. Mostly I see interest.

In Charlotte I met a woman who shared with me her vision for the arts. In Philly a friend gave me a tour of artists’ studios in a local church. I’ll visit an art ministry in New York soon. Art integrated with faith, and [sometimes] faith integrated with culture. What’s this world coming to?

Hopefully more of the same.

In Chattanooga I caught up with a friend I met in Prague. Coffee with an Irish acquaintance in Atlanta. Several friends from Prague in South Carolina and Virginia. Today I had breakfast with someone I know by way of Amsterdam. The list goes on, with older friends from other eras of my life scattered like jewels across the red, white, and blue countryside. Living life. Doing ministry.

I talk. I listen. I catch up.

I see God.

I’m less than halfway through my road trip. I’m already tired.

And I’m wondering how God is going to bless me next.