So I’m back in the Van. Back to the Rock, back to the rain, back to the Regent.

Since I got back, I’ve been feeling pretty sorry for myself. This self-centered tendency is closely followed by the tendency to self-analyze. As I self-analyze, I realize that many factors play into this.

One, I got really settled at home and then I had to leave everybody again. And I feel even more homesick now than I did in September. Roommates and Regent friends aren’t the same as my best friend and my siblings and parents. They’re not supposed to be. But it’s a difficult adjustment.

Two, I got a cold the day I arrived here, and it’s only worsened since.

Three, it’s been raining here. So much that they almost broke a record for consecutive rainy days. Then it stopped. For one day. And started again the very next day, my first day here. I think I prefer snow.

But today, the rain stopped for a while, and I finally made it down to the Rock. I met Martin and Solomon, two of my old friends, and two new friends, some Goldeneye ducks (Christine has cleverly named them Bond, James Bond).

More importantly, it gave me the chance to reflect on a deeper reason for feeling sorry for myself. I think I haven’t been feeling as wanted as I did in Saskatoon. When I was in Saskatoon, everyone wanted to see me, mostly because I had been gone and I was back. I went for coffee and talked with a bunch of people. Here, everyone has been gone and come back. No one is specialler than anyone else. No one actually uses the word specialler. There’s no special welcome week like there was in September, and one hundred students aren’t introducing themselves to me. It’s back to being just another student. Even if I am a student with a cold.

So I realized that that's a pretty dumb reason to feel bad - I know I'm still loved and wanted in both places. On top of it all, I’m being reminded in all sorts of ways that it’s not really about me. Despite what I told my prayer group this morning, the universe is not Bethocentric. It doesn’t revolve around me. Which doesn’t mean, however, that I’m not indispensable in the grand scheme of things. As my CTC prof reminded me, we’re each an essential part of a much larger story, and everything in our lives somehow fits into it. Maybe even my cold. After all, colds really aren’t the end of the world, you know. And everything is a little brighter when you buy the most expensive, softest, nose-hugging Kleenexes in the very nicest box. (Thanks, Chris, for the idea).

But yes, you may still feel sorry for me because I have a cold. Poor Beth. :)