School's officially in.  I mean actually officially.  It's past the point of exciting new school supplies, welcome back, how was your summer, and introductions.  And there's one fundamental difference from last year, and I think, from many of my years of schooling.  I haven't hit my usual, UG, I have to do this for  X more months.  In fact, even though I'm on the verge of falling behind in my readings, I have quizzes and assignments due in every class, and I'm counting down the days until Thanksgiving, Reading Week, Exams, and Christmas (Ok, maybe not the last two), I'm actually enjoying most of my classes.  I really care about my African History class - I feel like it's actually helping me to understand more about WHY things are the way they are.  I really love going to my History of Health and Disease lectures - I dont sit there watching the clock, my mind doesn't wander.   I love the challenge of my French Pronounciation class - I love that I can actually see where it's going, and how it's going to help me grasp the language.  And while I dread attending my other french class, I don't always hate being there. I remember talking to my friends at school last year and thinking "You are getting so much more out of University than I am."  Maybe it's because I wasn't ready last year.  Maybe because for one noticeable period of time in my life, my maturity level was lower than my age.  Maybe it's just because I know a bit more of what I was getting myself into this time.  Whatever the reason, I'm sitting on the top of the slide that's about to be this year - and actually looking forward to the ride down.  Before coming to Ottawa last Fall, I remember spending some time with a little girl in Edmonton.  And I remember helping her climb up to the top of the slide, sitting down with her on my lap, counting, and sliding down together.  There's a gradual transition between being scared to slide with someone, enjoying that slide, being nervous to slide by yourself, and squealing with glee as your body gains speed in an effortless, exhilarating trip to the ground.  I think this year, I'm so much more ready to slide on my own.  I'm excited for the journey - I don't know where it's going, I dont know if I'll succeed, I don't know how I'll pay for the next part - but rather than just looking forward to the end result, this year, I'm looking forward to the learning curve itself.  In my back yard growing up, we had a blue slide with a few little bumps or waves on the way down.   I remember trying to slow myself down for the bumps, trying to hold myself to the slide so as not to gain speed as I slid over them.  It's so easy for me to get scared of the bumps that are coming: finances, exams, stepping out of my comfort zone.  But looking back on my countless afternoons racing up the ladder and zooming down that slide - the bumps that scared me turned out to be the best part.  (And so I'm praying that this will apply to my dreaded tuesday/thursday french class...and soon!)

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^ This means that I'm tired of trying to figure out how to make my last paragraph flow into the coming one.

Sunday Amber and I spent the afternoon painting faces at a community barbeque.  I was amazed how quickly I was able to paint butterflies, sponge bob, and spiderman after the first few tries.  Let me say this: I love spending time with kids.  I loved the way they scrunched up their noses when the cool, slimy paint first touched their faces, and how they tried so hard not to budge when the brush tickled their skin. I loved their amazed, giggling explosive smiles when they found their new face in the mirror.  I loved that at any given point the conversation was in at least 2 or 3 languages, with one translating for another, translating for another.  I loved listening to them talk about what they love about superheros, or why one cartoon character was better than another.  Having spent all of last year immersed in my studies, spending time with people my age, I'm quite positive that if I were to do the same thing again this year, I would begin to shrivel up inside.  And so, this post marks the death of the non-involved, quite spectator Jennifer.  I'm excited to begin leading Cross Training (which is basically Sunday School) for Senior Youth and potentially K-4 at my church this year.  I'm excited to be using my time for more than just me: and praying that I'll know when to say yes, and when to say no.

Also this week, I had the opportunity to meet Kim Phuc, who became famous after a journalist captured the image of her running out of the fire ball that was once her Vietnamese village, her clothes melted off and her face saturated with emotion.  I sat and listened to her speak to a group of students in the beautiful Tabaret Chapel.  We are so blessed, in Canada, to be free to study.  To be free to decide what it is that we want for our lives.  To be free to choose where we want to go.  I think her story for the first time really made me think about my freedom, and even though I've always been thankful for it, I guess I haven't really understood what it meant.  She's speaking for many Universities through events organized by Campus for Christ, and after her presentation, a group of us went out for dinner with her at a Vietnamese restaurant.  She talked to us about how she defected to Canada -with her new husband, her purse, camera, and nothing else.  She talked to us about losing her dreams to the will of politicians, who wanted to use her as a symbol of the war.  She talked to us about forgiveness: and how she learned to forgive the people who dropped the bomb.  It was an incredible evening: talking and laughing with her, and also bonding more with some friends from C4C.

I think that brings me to this moment.  I'm sitting outside of the technology/engineering building at school, in which I'm about to have my next class - French Pronounciation. I'm cozy in my jeans and knitted sweater, the breeze keeps pushing my hair to one side.  It keeps pushing the clouds that way too. To the right, the sky is grey and white and blue, strips of opaque clouds give it depth and texture.  But over my other shoulder, the clouds are soft, seemingly paper thin, whispy, light, and beautiful as they dance across an endless blue.  It's all about perspective: and I'm praying that you see the sun today.