deep yoga breath here

My first week of school is behind me. It was good. Lots of walking, and coffee, and talking, and laughing!, and even more walking, singing, hi-fiving, and taking it all in. I am in love with good books at great coffee shops or on buses, and professors that make it crazy interesting. I am not in love with my right knee after all of the walking and stair climbing. But it's okay. It's getting stronger, which is needed.
Above all, I am tired. It's a good tired, but tired nonetheless. My scalp tingles at the point where my hair actually attaches anytime I run my hand through it. As if it longs for someone else to run their hand through it. I wish he would.
I made a new friend this week, and not just I met someone who is cool to talk to in class. A person that, I believe, will become a new true blue friend. A Jesus friend. I like Jesus friends.

It's also been a week of thinking about Jesus and how He effects my life. I have learned that at least one person is watching me, looking for Jesus, and that has been very sobering for me. Made me wonder how many people look at me and see Jesus. And, with it, the faces and names of everyone who I did not show Jesus to fly through my mind at a speed I can't even keep up with.

It's glorious to think that there is more to this world than just what is in front of me. I often think of myself sitting on the bus for example, as if all the roofs and attics and tops of cars and buses and trains have been taken off, and I'm looking down at the world from the sky. And I can see me and everyone on my bus. I zoom out. And there's everyone getting their kids ready, starting work, driving, crying, waking up in Raleigh. Zoom out again. There's North Carolina. And I think of how small my life is, how little impact I have. But, then I think of how we are just a high-thread count fabric and, though each strand is tiny, it is no less or no more important than any other strand. I can still do something. My tiny life will encounter other tiny lives. I want people to look at my tiny life and see that it radiates with joy and sunshine and swirly twirly gum drops...I hate the mold, Jell-0 and abstractly. If I resist the mold, I think my tiny life could do some good in other tiny lives.
But, not by me. Only through Jesus. And this- this I must remember.