Yesterday morning B and I woke up early and met each other at the beach. It was windy and overcast, but it was still peaceful, somehow. Both of us have been trying to make our way through Isaiah by reading a chapter a day for 60 days. It was really his idea, I'll give him credit, but I really wanted to jump on board as well. Moreover, I wanted to be able to talk about it together. He's a good one to talk to.
One of my roommates left this morning, so I got to move down to the bottom bunk, which I'm grateful for. It's a lot cooler down here. And my feet won't blister from climbing up the side of the bunk 50 times a day anymore.
Okay, okay-- so more like 10.
Maybe 5.
It's all relative, really.
I spent a half-hour making my bed and arranging the lamp, the fan, my computer charger, and my phone charger to my liking. All of which are plugged into an outlet might I add--the outlet I had on the top bunk, and now the outlet down here. I also inherited the two drawers on the bottom and some more hangers. Everything has a place now, and I love it. But I also feel kind of guilty. Should I? It wasn't even an hour after she left that I moved down here...
My classes are over and I'm proud to say that God got me through them, and with A's nonetheless--which is com-PLETELY out of character for me. So to celebrate my new gained freedom and academic successes, I treated myself to a few Amazon purchases:
I, Isaac, Take Thee Rebekah by Ravi Zacharias (he spoke here at Camp-of-the-Woods last week),
Desiring God by John Piper,
and a little fiction action--
Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (I've heard really great things).
It’s been forever since I’ve actually gotten to select my own reading material. And my afternoons have been bliss.
Our band 'True North' played at Battle of the Bands this past Saturday and somehow we ended up winning $500. B took me to Amsterdam for a reeeeeally nice dinner where I had stuffed Maine lobster. ‘Nuf said.
Afterward, we made a Wal-Mart trip and then went to see Transformers 3--the first movie we've seen together since we were in Atlanta. Sour Patch Kids were consumed.
After working at the Tee-Pee this evening (which is really just one huge sauna at the moment) B grabbed my hand and steered me toward the beach. My heart melted at the gesture, because usually we’re both so tired that we mindlessly head straight back to our dorms. Nothing was different tonight, both of us were equally tired, him even a little sick— but he took me to the beach. And it meant the world. In the past four months, I’ve realized that [one of] my love language[s] is definitely quality time. We don’t really have to do anything, or even talk necessarily. Just sitting on a bench under the night sky, overlooking the mountains and the lake with his arm around me is quite substantial.
So like I said-- in some distant memory, I recall hating it here. But now that I’ve been here for 4, going on 5 weeks, I do believe that I’m growing quite fond of little’ ole Speculator.
A chance was all it took.
Thanks for praying for me, bloggies!
-c
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