be a little brave.
I wasn’t even looking to be brave. I wasn’t expecting a conversation, fresh off of four days of not leaving my apartment with a bad cold. I was expecting a quick jaunt to the xerox, to make copies, then to my old apartment to get a few things, then back to my new apartment to continue getting ready. Turns out, He had other plans. Plans to answer prayers. Plans to restore my hope here, now—for this new season and this old, wounded place where my weary heart is trying to resettle once more. And so, He had a whole crowd of college students also seeking to make copies, waiting for one or two copiers in the back to get it done. So the owner instructed me to sit down, and I sat beside one of those college students, a young girl studying on the couch. She made room for me, then continued to flip through her notebook and the copies of the notes that she made. And in ten seconds of bravery that really wasn’t yet bravery—it was just my curiosity—I asked, Apka homework? Your homework? My