Soothe my soul?

It's a Friday night, and I am at a desk, in my dorm room, doing homework.

Okay, writing a blog post, but you know what I mean.

I have a long standing tradition of going out with my friend Emily on Friday nights. Sometimes we go to nice restaurants with cloth napkins and wine glasses on the tables that we ask our server to remove because we don't drink. Other times we go to Whole Foods and just sit at the burger bar and talk for hours while we eat our organic pizza. Sometimes we walk around downtown and take elevators to the tops of tall buildings because we get bored of life as short people. We've been to Paneras and Embassy pavilions and planetariums and thrift shops, and sometimes, when we're too tired to do any of those things, we just sit quietly together on the Mezz or on her couch. Sometimes the only way to soothe our heavy souls is the mutual healing sitting alone can provide.

But there are some nights that even these dates don't provide the necessary respite I so desperately need. Sometimes the only thing that can soothe my weary mind and body is solitude. Tonight is one of those nights.

I used to hide on the Mezz on nights like this. When laughter and speech were more painful than calming to my psyche. But for some reason, I can't bring myself to linger in those rooms full of technology and swivel chairs. Because you're never alone on the Mezz, the ghosts of good memories and bad memories and friends and classmates too loud and present for you to find any true sense of calm. The ever changing mood of that hallway always gnawing at your mind and heart.

That's why I'm in my dorm room. There's something about the horrible wood bunks and dressers that calm the fiery inability to sit still that is always threatening to drive me crazy. It's familiar. Yes, it's a different room, on a different hall, with different people in it than I've ever had before. A different smell, different feel, different layout. But when I really think about it, when I really look around, it's not so different than years past. My books are slanted to the left, body butter and pens and glasses cases and tissue boxes sitting on top, tucked in between each other. The soft humming of a battered pink laptop ringing in my ears. Everything about my room, even the differences, is so freaking familiar.

Because it's the differences that make it bearable.

There's something soothing about listening to my roommate type at her desk behind me. About both of us idly wondering where our favorite Korean has gone off to. About knowing that I am safe and loved by two people I just met a month ago. I have an extensive adopted family, but there is something about these two that brings out a different part of me. Something transparent. Somehow, these two new people in my life provide a calming, quiet influence that make it almost easy to be in the dorm on a Friday night.

It's been a while since I've posted. I usually only do so when my heart is under a great burden. And this time is no exception. But it's nights like these that I remember that while the ghosts of my past are indicative of all the change that has marred my life and the lives of others, God is unchanging. God is powerful. God is all encompassing and sustaining, and He never, ever leaves. He is familiar and predictable in a way that nothing on this earth can ever be. While my life may have surprises, God is not one of them.