isn't always fun. I'm trying hard to be optimistic, for instance, no one moved in to my room, so I can have friends come stay the night, like Mary did last night. But it's been a sort of lonely week. I've made some new friends, like my bus buddies Amy, Wayne, and Christina. My new roommate Amber is really nice. Sam is in my editing class. I got hugs from Beka, Hillary, Amy Soto, and Levi this weekend. My parents survived their first night in more than 25 years with no children under their roof. Tommy is seriously awesome and was ordained a deacon today. I got to see lots of friends this weekend.
I had a nice rant here about other things, but instead I'm just going to remind myself of what I really need to be doing with this poem by Sir Thomas Brown.
If thou could`st empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf,
And say, `This is not dead`,
And fill thee with Himself instead.
But thou art all replete with very thou
And hast such shrewd activity,
That when He comes, He says, `This is enow
Unto itself - `twere better let it be,
It is so small and full, there is no room for me.`
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