Thursday, August 16, 2012

bloody sweat

So far, junior year has started with more blood and more sweat than anticipated. 

I cut my leg, and so when one of my quadmates arrived a bit later than I did to move in, I was hopping around my un-airconditioned room with my jeans rolled up and blood streaming down my leg, trying to find a Band-Aid in the hullabaloo of my unpacked belongings. I found a makeshift something to stop the bleeding as I paused my frantic searching to shake hands with her father.
Typical.

And thus begins junior year.

It's not even officially the first day of the semester, and my stress levels have already reached tear-inducing levels. I thought this wasn't supposed to happen til midterms. Whoops.

No matter.

As we approached Notre Dame, I started bouncing up and down in my seat, and teared up when I saw the Golden Dome. Cue joyful reunions in the lobby of my newly renovated (!!) dorm. (It's palatial! My interior interior decorator did spiritual somersaults of joy down the hallways when I beheld the adorable miniature kitchen ["intimate" my RA has dubbed it]. When I saw the new bathrooms, bright, shining, and free of mold, I nearly wept.) 

Feeling frazzled, I reminded myself to breathe as I ran around campus working up a sweat darting from meeting to meeting place to grocery shopping at the Huddle.

I took a moment. Found some silence in my soul. And smiled.

It was the feast of the Assumption, (Today's the day when an Assumption makes a saint out of you and me, as my friend Thomas said.) and I was back at Notre Dame, walking the sidewalks I loved, passing by familiar haunts. And the golden hour was hitting South Quad. Each time I return, the more I fall in love with this beautiful place.

And one of my classes got cancelled. God taking care of my overloaded schedule like a boss. (Maybe sending a gentle hint, perhaps saying [as my mother often does]: you're doing too much. Gentle hint? Okay more like a loud and clear: STOP. You're doing it wrong.)

I just got back now from a delightful dinner party with a crowd of interesting, eclectic, beautiful people and beautiful conversation and great fun. And one of the first people I met when I walked in the door was a Vision alumna. Our voices rose octaves in excitement as we discussed ValLimar, small groups, master mentors, mutual favorite people, and all of the lovely things that are so particular to Vision.

I left in a sweaty, bloody mess, anxious and scatter-brained. Tonight, I returned feeling much more peaceful. And very blessed.

As my friend said to me: "God's kinder to us than we often deserve in these little ways."

Moments of grace, indeed.



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