I stare out a window in Minneapolis, MN – the starting point for this entire journey. In my directors’ apartment, we sit around with computers on our laps and pizza boxes on the floor, frantically moving to bring this trip to a close; filling out evaluations, sending thank you notes and postcards, emailing our schools so that classes are all set when we return. The outward motions move quickly, but I’m not sure the same could be said for the processes in our hearts. I would like to believe that I am not alone in writing that part of me wishes this weren’t coming to a close, that we weren’t wishing each other goodbye, that the weight of realizing that this may be our last time together is almost too much to carry.

I am starting to think about what my mind and heart will have to endure in processing these past two months and not quite sure what will be left when that process is over. At this point all I can say is that I am permanently changed, inspired, and motivated to see to that efforts such as these do not merely fade into the background of my life’s history. I keep trying to find myself when I look in the mirror and then I realize that it is not me who is staring back but rather who I have become. All I have to articulate that experience are these words and this space.

In an effort to begin the processing I look at a map on the wall in disbelief: we’ve traveled half the country, from the plains of Iowa, through the swamps of Mississippi, across the mountains of Georgia, and back up to the trees of Massachusetts. I know right now that I did not bring enough film. We’ve had innumerable conversations, faced police hostility in a number of states, sat in jail for nearly thirty hours, listened to the screams of people who swear we are eternally damned, been embraced with warm arms from communities and churches, and came back to gift bags prepared for us by our fellow Riders from the West bus who were eagerly waiting our arrival. Even if I could begin to illustrate the motions inside my mind, this page would not suffice. I could write until my fingers cramped and it would still feel unfinished. Perhaps that feeling is what will motivate me to continue this work through some other means when I return home.

As I begin sending out last emails to our sponsors and supporters I think about how lucky we’ve been to have so many people who believe in us. Young adults are somewhat discouraged at times when they tell people they have a dream only to receive a pat on the head and some patronizing words of encouragement. But our supporters have sincerely followed our journey, sent us emails and words of perseverance, and continue to keep the glow of the flames burning. To them I would like to say thank you – you are much of what has sustained us when we thought we wouldn’t make it and still retain sanity throughout this journey.

When I think of my Riders, I start feeling a space widening in my chest realizing that we won’t be sharing a bed together, that dance parties on the bus are over, and that your voices won’t be singing with mine. I am listening to your laughs one room over and the sound of your footsteps shuffling down the hall. I shudder at the approach of our departure creeping in with the breeze as I look out this window, singing in my head a favorite Rolling Stones song, “Til the next time we say goodbye, I’ll be thinking of you…â€

When we pulled into Birmingham, Alabama we all felt it. Maybe it was just goose bumps… but I’d like to believe that when I stood still and yet felt myself moving, it was more than just a breeze.

Samford University was the second school on our route, which was welcoming our presence. Upon arrival, we all commented on the beautiful landscape of the campus, the aesthetic charm that emanated from landscape designs and water fountains. A few of us arrived early to speak to a sociology class about our experiences and to answer any questions that might arise. I could hear my own heartbeat echoing through my body when we pulled up to campus as I scribbled on a notepad the things I felt were necessary to say.

In class, one by one the four of us (Angel, Casey, Josh, and myself) shared our stories and answered questions from the class. They watched us with wide eyes and while there were fewer than twenty in the class, I felt as though I was speaking to a generation of young adults, much like myself, often discontent with current conditions but too often left confused.

With that in mind, we proceeded to attend a forum in which four Equality Riders were the panelists. They spoke to an audience for which there were not enough seats. To our surprise, the students had just as many questions for their administration as they did for us. In some way, issues were danced around in regards to the execution of Samford policies because the faculty seemed somewhat hesitant to address our questions in reference to policies that fine individuals for committing “homosexual acts.†As the session grew to a close, one of the administrators at Samford had made it clear that the school merely prohibited any sexual activity outside the confines of marriage. One of our riders stood and introduced two other riders who were legally married in California. He continued by asking, “Would they, being a married couple, a marriage that was blessed by their congregation, be able to openly attend this university?†The administrator said that he could not speak for the entire school and declined to answer the question. However, throughout the day many students were discussing their ideas of what that answer would have been.

I was fortunate enough to have been part of the human rights presentation that was given at the law school. My group and I tried to utilize the innumerable movements through human, and specifically, American history that were generated because of a need for basic equality. We tried in many ways to provide information that would be useful to students who were pursing a career in law, highlighting the lack of housing, employment and protection that is provided for members of the LGBT community. We talked about Jesus, whom we believe to have been the first and greatest example of a human rights activist, a radical, a revolutionary.

While the visit was productive, with many opportunities for us to serve as a voice for a continually silenced community, it felt unfinished. I think about the physicality of the campus, complete with water fountains and well-nurtured trees. It is beautiful. It was very much like the community at Samford, beautiful, charming on a somewhat surface level. It felt too nice, too beautiful, like the fountains and green were merely providing an illusion to cover a more darker reality. Through many conversations on campus I heard repeated times that “Samford is very liberal and this doesn’t seem like much of a problem here†while I looked into the faces of closeted students on campus whose body language told me otherwise.

We were welcomed and engaged in dialogue but I felt as though I left a community that in some ways refused to see beyond the fountains, dig beneath the hills of green. I felt myself continually wanting to ask questions that created that necessary tension that would elicit growth beyond these seemingly beautiful gardens. I thought perhaps that I was being unfair and too quickly making assumptions. Then again, I was looking around at a campus of an overwhelming white majority in a city that is home to a more diverse demographic.

To complete our stay, we visited the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute this morning. I walked around in silence, listening to the recordings of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Fred Shuttlesworth. I gazed at pictures of young black school children entering buildings with bystanders screaming at them. Standing there staring at a piece of one of the original buses from the Freedom Rides, I began feeling that same sensation that was felt when we pulled into, what my fellow rider would call, “the human rights holy land.†Those goose bumps started once again to rise, while we stood at the corner of the 16th Street Baptist Church. I could, again, simply say that it was just the breeze but that wouldn’t explain the whispers I felt at my ears, moving my heart, and leading me on. And with a shudder I boarded the bus, leaving behind an unfinished but bellowing Birmingham.

It has only been over a week since we began and I already miss my family. That feeling of loss, however, was rectified today when the Equality Riders arrived at the First Unitarian Universalist Church here in Springfield, Missouri. We were welcomed to their congregation this morning, greeted with smiles and affirmed with a service titled “The Inherent Worth & Dignity of Me.†Together we sang, shared stories, and were even the privileged audience of a poetry reading from one of the congregation’s members. While my family rests miles away, it is comforting to know that family I had never met rests within pocketed communities that punctuate the plains of the Midwest.

We were provided lunch following the service, including two vegan dishes to accommodate the dietary needs of certain riders, an effort that required certain members to stay awake half the night when they had realized that they had forgotten certain ingredients. A small detail it seems, but is helps to illuminate the way in which we were welcomed and embraced today during our visit. As we laughed about it over lunch, I looked around and realized how long it has been since I have been in a church that felt like home. I have spent half my life as a member of numerous congregations but always feeling like an outcast, even as a heterosexual. At twenty-two years old I am, after today, reconsidering my stances on serving as a member of a spiritual congregation.

We returned to the church later this evening for a candle light vigil that Equality Riders opened in a singing of “Amazing Grace.†Our directors led a discussion concerning relentless non-violence and civil disobedience for those members who demonstrated interested in visiting Central Bible College with us tomorrow morning. This congregation, in realizing the lack of welcome we may possible face, will send some of its own members to stand beside us tomorrow outside school parameters. To emphasize our mission, philosophy, and the necessity of this movement, the directors revisited the words of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King by reading passages from “Letter from Birmingham Jail.†I turned around in my pew to witness the movement of spiritual energy that fluctuated throughout the room, finding comfort in the expression of a common conviction: truth is found in movement and transformation requires tension.

The congregation watched us as we lit candles, singing “We Shall Overcome†while each rider used the candle of the other to light their own. Standing before the faces of this new-found family, within the glow of my fellow riders, I thought to myself, “And to think that all this light was born from a single flame.â€