This weekend, I found that my mind was constantly turning to Boston. For those who are unaware, I attended undergraduate college at Olin College of Engineering outside of Boston, so those precious and informative years from age 18 to 21 will always be marked by that city. Possibly even more importantly, it was in the young adult community in Boston that I experienced a substantial deepening of my faith and discerned a call to priesthood. I owe my priestly vocation to the church and the priests in that city, and I only returned to Seattle because I could not stand to be across the country from my family for the rest of my life.
Well, this weekend I was thinking about Boston because we had our first real Fall chill in the air, and there is nothing more iconic or more beautiful than Fall in New England. Some of my happiest memories are marked by changing leaves, sweaters and scarves, and hot apple cider with the smell of the Boston autumn air. (I suppose it also helps that October was not marked by insanely difficult engineering midterms and projects that came due just before Christmas.)
From time to time I wonder about what my life would be like if I had stayed in Boston as a priest. It is certainly an interesting thought, but one I do not engage for very long, because that sort of speculative nostalgia is not helpful. The Lord calls each of us to our specific time and place and gives us a particular mission, which is whatever is directly in front of us. The Lord wants me to be a priest in Bellingham, and he wants you to preach the Gospel right here in Whatcom County. No matter what brought us here, this is where we are supposed to be.
But maybe, just maybe, COVID will die down enough for a nice Boston vacation next Fall…
Fr. Moore 