In Closing: A Letter to Seven North

One of my fav pictures of us (missing several great faces though!).
Photo Credit: the amazing Kayla Klitzke!

Dear Seven North,

It has been two months since we were together in person. I remember the night before I left. Peighton, Payge, and Sam were lingering in my room and I was rolling my eyes because Peighton was so sad about leaving.

“It’s two weeks, Peighton,” I told her.

“I know,” she said. “It just still feels sad.”

I laughed at her, called her dramatic, but I gave her some extra hugs that night.

I looked back on that moment a lot the first few weeks after Moody shut down. I was thankful for it, thankful that somebody had a large enough sense of loss and affection to make that goodbye special, even when we didn’t know how long it would really be.

I thought we would have so much more time. More hours in my room, with you guys filling every corner, teetering on that decrepit chair and making each other laugh. More discussion of the one anothers, in person, with voices and touch and practice down the hall. More Saturday morning pancakes—I was supposed to share my testimony with you when we got back. But we didn’t. With one email, all those hopes and dreams were gone.

The loss and the processing made us all weary, I think. I found a strange inability to straddle both worlds well, and in many ways, that’s led to an inability—or at least, a lack of motivation—to lead you well these last eight weeks. In the words of Douglas McKelvy’s Daybreak liturgy, I have been “weak and inconsistent."*

Our first zoo trip, when I made them walk two miles.

Pizookie! One of the best traditions ever invented!

Our beach potluck got rained out, so we did it inside instead,
complete with sand!

That time when Sam cornered the market on surprise parties.

Galentines.

One of the funniest ideas anyone on the floor ever had.
(Shoutout to Shiloh)

I woke up this morning with a startling sense of this weakness, and the ways it may have led to some people feeling neglected—which, if it’s true, is something I am deeply sorry for.

But sitting here writing this, there is one phrase ringing in my ears: “My power is made perfect in your weakness.”

I don’t know all the ways Jesus has met you in this season. Heck, I didn’t know all the ways even when we lived together! What I do know is that He has met me and shown Himself faithful over and over again—so I have loads of faith that He has done the same for you.

I’ve had the song “You Matter to Me” from Waitress on repeat this week, and I have been thinking of you while listening to it. The first time I heard that song, I was sitting next to Anna in Dryer Auditorium, and we were both eating up the music of the Musical Theatre Showcase. The chorus says this:

…[Y]ou matter to me
Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody
You matter to me
I promise you do, you, you matter too
I promise you do, you see?
You matter to me

Put very simply, Seven North, that is how I feel about you. Even in moments of weakness and malaise, I have thought of you often, breathed prayers for you, in this time. You matter to me, you matter to each other, and I am so thankful I got to do life with you this year.

And so thankful that, Lord willing, I get to do it again next year!

Love,

Jessi Bee

*McKelvey, Douglas Kaine, et al. "A Liturgy of the Hours: Daybreak." Every Moment Holy. Rabbit Room Press, 2017.