chills

Sometimes when I feel safe and that someone is taking care of me, I get a tingling in the back of my neck and head that feels like a mixture between getting shocked and someone warming-up my neck nerves.  It is one of my favorite feelings.  I can't really explain it other than that I am unconditionally happy when I feel it.  It usually happens someone plays with my hair or reads aloud to me, which is a rare occasion and so this is a rare feeling.
The past couple of days, I have had it happen to me a couple of times.  Once, when I was reading Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and it reminded me of my years in the south.  Those were good days filled with clay, cricks, bare feet and space.  Not to mention trips to Chic-Fil-A :)

Great book--I recommend it!
 

The second time happened just a few minutes ago, while I was working on an assignment in a computer lab.  #1: I felt like a Freshman, again, because I haven't been in this computer lab since I was a Freshman.  I've been getting these moments as I draw closer and closer to graduation. Even though I will be a college graduate, I feel like I will back to square one.  Starting fresh.  New adventures.
#2: I heard an African woman's voice.  The attendant here at the computer lab is African, or at least I think by hearing her accent.  I instantly went back to London 2.5 years ago.  A girl from back home got back from study abroad there and so during Winter semester I saw her pictures pop up on my FB feed.  Yesterday, we were talking about it, so I decided to go through my pictures (for the upteenth time).  So London was in the back of my mind, anyways.  The reason she made me think about London was because of my LDS ward that I attended while I was there.  It was mostly Nigerian immigrants, so I was a minority in my ward. Which I loved.  That was the greatest experience.  They were the greatest people.
I was talking with my friend, Brooke, the other day and we were talking about the importance of friendship and service within the ward.  I kept thinking about that ward and how they were the perfect example of this concept.  Even though they were the ones struggling to make ends meet, they were the ones who made food for us once a month.  (and it was gooodd foooodd that we ate on the tube ride back because we couldn't wait)  And they hugged each other and knew everyone by name and made us feel so welcomed.  And the singing.  It was like a Southern Baptist choir and everyone sang like they meant it.  And I loved that.
So you can understand why I would get the chills every time I hear an African voice with London in the back of my mind.

pict courtesy of Laura

sunset on our way back to the Centre from Church 

samples of the food we would get from the members and munch on the way home