September 4th,
I barely slept. Between the strange whisper and the heaviness in the air, I felt like I was trying to rest in the middle of a battlefield. But even in the thickest darkness, God is near. I keep reminding myself that I'm not here by accident. I wasn't placed on this campus to blend in. I was sent here to stand out. I just didn't expect the weight to come so soon.
***
I woke up before sunrise.
The room was still. Too still. I lay there listening to the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me. It creaked with each turn, as though complaining about its job. A flicker of movement caught my eye — the curtain swaying gently even though the window was shut.
"Not today," I whispered.
I reached for my Bible and read from Psalms, then got on my knees. The words didn't come easily at first. My mouth opened, but my mind was cluttered. Distractions, noise, anxiety… all of them fighting for attention.
But then I felt it — peace. That quiet stillness that only God can give. And in that moment, I knew: I wasn't alone here. The same presence that had followed me all my life had already taken residence in this little room.
Later that morning, I met my roommate.
She stumbled in half-asleep, dragging a huge travel bag and talking on the phone with someone who clearly wasn't morning-friendly.
"No, mummy, I'm not fasting. I told you—!" She stopped mid-sentence when she saw me standing near the door, fully dressed.
We both froze for a second. I smiled.
"Hi. I'm Sandra."
She eyed me for a moment, then hung up. "Anita."
She dropped her bag with a thud, looked around the room, then pointed to the top bunk. "That okay?"
"Of course."
She didn't smile back. Just plugged in her phone and flopped on the bed without another word. Within minutes, soft snores filled the air.
I stood there, holding my water bottle, wondering what I'd just been paired with. But somehow, I didn't feel irritated. I felt… burdened. Like she was carrying more than just that oversized travel bag.
Campus was buzzing by 10 a.m.
Tony and I met at the admin building to finalize our registrations. We got separated in the crowd, and I found myself in a line full of people more interested in flaunting outfits than documents. One girl's lashes literally brushed her forehead.
But it wasn't the fashion that caught me off guard.
It was the atmosphere.
There was laughter, yes. Chatter. Excitement. But under all of that, I sensed something else. A quiet pride. A loud emptiness. I looked around and saw souls — not students. Some glowing, some flickering, some completely cold.
That's when I heard it again — faint but firm, inside me this time:
"Shine."
I didn't speak. Just smiled and whispered back, "Yes, Lord."
Tony found me a few minutes later, carrying a bag of chips and grinning.
"Looks like we're officially students now," he said.
I took one and laughed. "Still feels unreal."
We sat under a tree near the library and watched people pass. A guy walked by, head buried in his phone, nearly tripping over a root. Two girls strolled by debating if the campus pastor was "fine enough to follow."
Tony shook his head. "We've got work to do here."
I nodded. "Big work."
***
Met Anita. Something tells me she's not just rude. She's broken. I've decided to pray for her. Maybe, just maybe, God brought her here too — and maybe our room is more than just shelter. It's supposed to be a light station.
Classes start tomorrow. And honestly? I'm not sure what to expect. But I know Who goes with me. And that's enough.
Light in me, don't flicker. Fire in me, don't die.