You see that little brunette girl in the right hand corner of the picture? (I mean the picture I'm holding duh.) Well, that's my roommate. Her name is Sarah Moore and because we absolutely loathe being in the same room for any amount of time, we don't have a single picture together. So, in order to make this post possible, I had to creepily steal the GREATEST picture in my, I mean.. our room- that one. Anyway, we've been miserable, I mean.. lived together for a few weeks now, and since then a few funny things have happened.. AKA- I have 6 stories on my sweet lil' college dry-erase board that I need to post up here. Pace yourself, kids. Only a couple at a time.
(She's actually a pretty great roommate; clean, super entertaining, almost normal.)
Fayetteville, AR- August 15th:
So, it's move in day. We just got all moved in and met each other and all that good, strange stuff. That night, after the parents have left us, and we signed our "Roommate Agreement" and answered all those sweet ice-breaker questions, we're just hanging out in the room, mentally preparing for Rush the next day, and life, the next four years. While thinking to ourselves about living together over the next year, we hear something drop by the door. I wasn't even aware anything was hanging above the door before, so when Sarah jumped out of her chair and ran over to the object lying on the ground, I just watched for clues as to what was going on. She picks the thing up, whatever it is, and slowly turns to face me with it in her hands, mouth open in shock. She holds a little Jesus in her hands. Apparently earlier that day, she'd hung a crucifix over our door, and that night.. BAM! Gravity pulled the King down. Whats worse is that when Jesus fell, He was maimed. Sarah was holding most of Jesus' body in one hand, and the cross- with two dangling arms- in the other. We stare at Jesus for a minute, we stare at His arms for a few minutes, and then look at each other when Sarah asks "Is this a sign!?" Neither of us knew what to do. I mean, when only Jesus' arms are dangling from the cross- do you laugh at the irony? Do you cry? Do you just throw Jesus and His arms in the trash- or do you try to fix Him? Or is that insulting- to try to fix Jesus, maybe glue Him back to His arms or something? Needless to say, we didn't know what the right thing to do was. So, after calling our Moms, discussing the possibilities of what this meant and questioning what to do with the body and with the arms, we come to a decision, ruling out just throwing Him away- I mean, you can't just throw Jesus in the trash! So He now resides in the bottom drawer of Sarah's desk. I think His arms live there, too. Jesus' body, broken for us.
Anyway, we have a cross hanging now. Just a nice, simple cross. No body. No body parts. No worries.
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