Gratitude for Gina

It’s Tuesday night, I walked back from the library feeling like I was about to cry, but I couldn’t figure out the reason. Now there are about 9 crumpled tissues on the floor beside where I sit. The heavy weight of people I love who are hurting finally broke the flood bank in me and I wept. Not even caring whether or not I was getting snot on her sweater (sorry, that’s gross!) I cried on my roommates shoulder as she held me and begged our Savior to give me His light burden. She made me hot chocolate and listened to my shaking voice explain how I just felt tired, heavy, overwhelmed, defeated, unworthy. As she handed me the mug of steaming cocoa I broke down again and just whispered, “I can’t ever tell you enough how much I love you.” I had to repeat “thank you” at least five times until I felt I had scratched the surface of expressing my gratitude to her.

Maybe this is a little intense, sorry- I’m really emotional. The weight of the day simply crushed me, but she was there to hold me and comfort me and speak prayers and love over me. I am amazed at her grace to me. I am overwhelmingly blessed to have this sister in my life who props me up when the winds of this world threaten to knock me down.

At the beginning of the semester, one of my professors wanted to hear our initial writing voice and get a feel for our styles, so we had to write a 100-word essay on anything we wanted. I wrote mine on my dear friend, my roommate. After tonight’s happenings, I thought I would share the little piece I wrote on her, for her.

I know I’ve done nothing to deserve the unfailing constant love that my roommate gives to me. I know I don’t always love her back accordingly. For that she is grace to me. May you find someone in your life who is an outpouring of love to you, too.
Blessings, and enjoy!

Affinity

Right now she sits in front of me, studying at her desk. I can tell it’s Chemistry by the way she slaps her knee every time she makes a mistake, and by the way her mouth speaks pure determination without saying a word. The first time she told me about DNA was in a canoe, and she had explained everything she knew about pharmaceutical science by the time we reached the end of the river. For all the drastic differences that make up the two of us, in this one room we are quite the same. Many notebooks and textbooks are stacked on the shelves, four muddy running shoes are sitting outside the door, both sets of legs are stretched strong but are tired from the miles ran in this afternoon’s heat, and two hearts are quiet with the patient trust of loving and living and daily inhabiting this space.

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