What are you going to do with that?

Have you ever thought about how a seemingly everday, insignificant question can define your life's purpose? I was contemplating this today on the way back from getting my hair cut. For me, that question is "what are you going to do with that?" What does that have to do with anything, you may ask. Well, I can guarantee you that everytime I explain what I am studying in school, the immediate response is that question. I have become so accustomed to hearing that question, that I immediately respond with my stock response: "teach." Then usually some sort of joke involving "it's all Greek to me" will surface in the conversation. Am I the only one with a purpose defined by a simple question? It's funny how I can find so much purpose in what I enjoy studying, but most other people do not understand it. It's such a simple question that I often take for granted, yet it contains the key to my purpose in life. However, I know that I can't be the only one who has experienced this sort of repetitive question in their lives. So, what's your question?

Airports are a funny sort of place

Just yesterday Melissa and I returned from a successful scouting trip to the wonderful southern state of North Carolina, where we will be moving on July 1, just a few short months away. We found a place to live that is very convenient for my school and for Melissa's prospective new job. But that is neither here nor there. The most interesting part of the trip was the airport experience. For those of you who have flown several times before, you will know exactly what I'm talking about. We left North Carolina at a balmy 80 degrees, which meant that I was wearing shorts. I was aware that the temps in Chicago would be considerably less(like 45 degrees), but I just didn't feel like changing into pants at the airport. I figured I could brave the weather for the little amount of time I would be outside. My clothing decision lead me to a striking realization as we were sitting in Midway waiting for our ride home (that itself is a long story which I would love to divulge in more personal company, especially if that personal company involves friends of a certain Lucas Motley). My realization was that airports are the only places on the planet where you can see every season of clothing. I was obviously inappropriately dressed for the Chicago weather but very appropriately dressed for the North Carolina weather. Just across the baggage claim I could see people in heavier winter coats, obviously dressed for an even colder climate than Chicago. On the other hand, in warmer southern states the airports are filled with people dressed in their coats and long pants, which is completely unnecessary for the southern climate. In that moment, I gained a new appreciation for the uniqueness of an airport. Nowhere else can you see a person in shorts and a tank top standing next to someone with boots, a coat, and a stocking cap on. So when you stop to think about it, an airport really is a funny sort of place.