So, it's felt a little bit surreal. Like playing dress-up or Indians when you're small; you know you can always go home at dinner-time. But yesterday as my Professor told me he'd see me this fall and I answered that no, he wouldn't, it felt real for the first time. Well, we'll miss you around here he said, and handed me my Flannery O'Connor paper. I offered a smile, but didn't answer. How could I? I won't miss this school at all. But he knew that and said "I'm excited for you, really. You don't belong here, you belong where you can write this stuff and get an honest critique. I'll tell you what I think, but I'm not the audience you want to write for, am I?" I smiled again and answered truthfully, as best as I could. I guess it shows through, huh? Yeah. It shows through, but don't worry, it was still an excellent paper.

I wasn't so thrilled about the paper or the grade as I thought I would be; I was more excited that after a semester with a gnostic teacher, he was able to see a little of Jesus in me. That Jesus showed through.