Ever since the evening of conversation and music Krystiana writes about here, the lyrics and lessons from that night have been rolling around in my head. I’m glad she got to writing about it first, because she articulates our little story of messy brokenness and hope in a way that is so honest and beautiful. (My friends are the coolest.) Please, enjoy — and I hope you’re encouraged as well.
One of my favorite things about the beginning of break is the liberty-luxury of extended time for people, without the nagging pressure of Things I Ought To Be Doing Instead. It was 2am one night this week when I realized I had spent quite literally the whole day speaking/listening/learning/dreaming/gushing/ranting/relating with people I care about. Some of those conversations were planned, some were by accident, and all were wonderful.
Definitely in the accidental category was the moment when my dear friend Lynnette (who writes here, among other places, and whose friendship is one of my favorite things that has happened in college) and I realized that we had both gotten ourselves into the same embarrassing, irresponsible predicament on the same day. Along with some wide eyes and grimaces, the situation sparked a deeply refreshing conversation about how somehow, despite being good at quite a lot of things, we are basically…
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