Looking up the required Bible verses outlined on my sheet, I carefully fill out the chart, including how many verses I read and the amount of time I spent studying each one. The task is surprisingly satisfying—QTs are a lot like my literature homework, and BTs like an independent study, so I decide to go ahead and complete it myself instead of waiting for my study partner like the instructions suggest.
The last thing on the checklist is to say a prayer, but there’s no instruction. Praying is something I’ve never really tried unscripted. Growing up, we were taught a specific prayer for every occasion. Besides, how would anyone even know if I prayed by myself or not? My eyes scan down to the last question on my sheet: Describe how it felt to say the prayer out loud.
I sigh, deciding to take a shot at the silent impromptu method. After a few seconds, my thoughts race in multiple directions until my mind freezes up. I shut my eyes and focus on the blankness behind my eyelids.
Dear God … No. That sounds like Dad dictating a letter.
Okay. Try again. God? Ugh. What? Am I waiting for an actual answer?
The problem is, I don’t know what I’m supposed to pray for. All A’s? World peace? I open my eyes again with a sigh. Maybe I can fudge this part….
I scan the Common, looking for inspiration. When I spot a group of girls in matching shirts (no doubt off to some mandatory event), clarity hits me. My eyes flutter shut as I pray: God … Help me feel less … alone. Just asking brings enormous relief. A comforting presence overwhelms me, as I breathe in deeply and listen to the water lapping against the bank. My eyes open to see willow branches stirring circles into the pond’s surface like I’ve been pulled into a scene straight from Shakespeare: Willow, willow, willow—a willow grows aslant a brook. I study and pray until dusk falls, and I swear I can hear the sound of cicadas rising and falling, like something otherworldly calling me home.
I sit there for so long—mesmerized, calm, completely at peace—that I lose track of time. The cafeteria is preparing to close when I dash in to grab my usual dinner to-go before heading back to my dorm. I open the door to my room to find a red number three blinking into the darkness. I turn on the lights and press play on my answering machine with a loud beep. You have three messages. The first is Patti. Skip. Beep. The second an annoying guy from a math study group I signed up for and apparently totally forgot about. Next. I take a deep breath before listening to the third. Please be him.
“Hi, it’s Josh. Call me.” I scribble his number onto my art history notes. My heart races as I dial. He answers immediately. “Hi,” I say too quickly. “It’s Emily. I’m just… calling you … back.” I sound ridiculous. Why am I so bad at this?
“So what’d you think about my friends?” he says. His casual tone immediately puts me at ease.
“I think you’re going to a lot of trouble to set me up with Andrew,” I joke.
His outburst of laughter makes me smile. “Not the case at all,” he says. “We just thought you’d make a better Pictionary team.”
“Uh-huh. You just wanted to win,” I tease. “So, after you left, Heather asked me to be her study partner. I’m still not completely sure I know what that means exactly.”
“Really? Wow.” He sounds surprised. Heather definitely made it sound like a huge honor to get a spot, but I didn’t expect Josh to be so impressed. “Well,” he says. “One thing it means is we’ll be seeing a lot more of you. Is it just me, or does it seem like we have to leave too soon every time I’m with you?”
“It isn’t just you,” I say, smiling into the phone. “I can understand, though. It’s cool you have friends with the same interests.” It suddenly occurs to me that Heather is the type of person who probably actually enjoys volunteering and would maybe like coming to the senior home with me. “I’ve had a hard time with that. I mean, in Boston.”
“Hmm … It sounds to me like you’re homesick.”
“Maybe.” An image of my hometown beach with my friends around a bonfire flashes through my mind. “I miss the water.”
“I guess you haven’t looked out your window yet.” He’s sarcastic.
The other dorm rooms across from my tower are a grid of lights against the night. My view so often makes me feel small and insignificant, like I’m lost in a sea of windows. Despondency seeps into my voice: “Yeah, but it isn’t the same.”
“I know what you mean,” he says gently.
As our conversation shifts to home, I can picture us talking like this while driving down a wide-open interstate, through lush green mountains until they flatten into a sun-pierced, pine-columned homestretch. Over the rivers and bayous that wind through golden mazes of marsh grass, and into the open Gulf. Home.
“You sound sleepy,” he finally says in a soft voice.
I sigh, trying to keep my eyes open.
“Listen,” he says. “Before I let you go. Don’t say anything to Heather about me calling you. It’s kind of a rule that I give you distance at this point.” I hear someone through the other line say something in the background. “I’ve gotta go. Talk soon,” Josh whispers. He hangs up before I can even say good-bye.
My heart sinks. Give me distance? And he wants to keep us a secret from Heather? Suddenly wide-awake, I try not to get too worked up. I pull my covers up and focus on the part before things got weird: If he can’t stop thinking about me, then he’ll explain.
Better yet, maybe he can explain it in person.
STEP 4: Memorize the Salvation Formula: DISCIPLE=CHRISTIAN=SAVED.
The Castle
Lights flicker behind the glass of the rounded wooden door, where the friendly sounds of socializing echo from the other side. I’ve walked by the Castle dozens of times, but I’ve never been inside. I always thought it was only for weddings and alumni functions. A flash of insecurity makes me pause. Thankfully, when I walk in, Heather is the first person I see in the entryway.
“Emily! You came!” She rushes to give me a hug. “I’ll take those for you.” She pulls the invitation and completed checklist from my hand. “Listen, I’m about to speak. We’ll meet up right after, though,” she says before racing into the crowd.
The room is packed with mingling female students. A woman in a formal black dress plays a grand piano under the enormous Gothic-arched window. My head is thrumming with an eager excitement, similar to orientation week when everyone bonded together through a shared new experience. The same optimism I felt then rushes through me now, except this time no one is making jokes about being forced to be here. We were chosen to be part of this, and not because it’s on the same checklist of every other freshman.
I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to feel wanted.
Heather approaches a podium in front of the intricately carved staircase. She adjusts the microphone and clears her throat. “Welcome to our symposium on discipling partnerships,” she says. Everyone turns, eager to listen. “First, I would like to thank Kingdom on Campus for hosting this event.” Heather leads a round of applause. “Without their tireless efforts, these symposiums simply would not be possible. And this incredible turnout is a testimony to their success.” More clapping.