No Match for the Open Window.

It's a really strange week at Moody. Last week everyone was stressed and over caffeinated. Everyone walked with the heads down and their brows furrowed, making a beeline for the library. Everyone fluctuated between hurried typing and vigorous reading and the slow, zombie-like daze that over takes you when the caffeine has worn off.

But this week, this week is different. Yes, we're still anxious and drinking too much coffee. But there's something different. We still walk fast, but our heads are up, our eyes are hopeful. I think ... yes, I'm pretty sure ... summer's on the horizon.

I love this time of year. Minus all the homework, tests, quizzes, final papers, and floor meetings, life's great [let's not mention that all the hours of daylight are spent on those]. The sun is out, and the beach is calling. Some students are completely checked out already. Seniors, at this point, they can't really fail you. So, go ahead, go to the beach; throw the syllabus away and that throw that Frisbee. Others of us, however, just have to stay inside as much as possible, or we'll joint you. The problem with that is that I can still flunk out of college. Not good. So, I'm staying the library, in my room, on the floor so that I can make myself work without the distraction of sunshine and sand.

But ...

then there's moments like this. Moments where I sit at my computer working on my Doctrinal Position Paper or Systematic Theology II and the computer screen is just no match for the open window in front of me. The breeze is soft and the air is about as clean as Chicago will ever be. And I can't help but think ... it's coming. Summer's really coming.

It's hard to say "I can't wait" knowing that when summer comes so does graduation and I have to say goodbye to many of my dearest friends in the world. My eyes prick at the thought. The 15th will be a hard day. Even still. Summer means sleep and healthy food and sleep and friends and sleep and Church and sleep and preaching and sleep. I haven't slept for 8 hours in weeks [that might not be completely true] and I cried this morning when I thought I had to get up. It's a crisis, really.

Summer, dear friend. Come as fast as you can. It's an emergency.