The Stranger at the Game

On Wednesday night, I was waiting in the gym for my intramural basketball game to begin. I was nervous, as I always am when about to partake in an activity I know I am awful at. I wasn't exactly sure of what my team name was, or who exactly was on my team. I looked around and there was a girl, who appeared to have no more idea what to do with herself than I did. We drew towards each other, like moths to a flame, until finally we were close enough that I could ask her her name.
As it turned out Kara was there to watch her RA play, and her RA was on my team. As we talked she fiddled with her homemade sign made of washable Crayola marker, looking to her friend who had just arrived, clearly wanting out of the conversation she had just found herself in with me. I asked her why she came to the basketball game, and she told me her RA had given their hall the guilt trip about coming to watch her play. But she said it with a twinkle in her eye, the kind you get when you are outwardly bashing someone or something, but the care you have for them sparkles through the hazy sarcasm. She loves that about Loma, the fact that people will encourage each other and be there for each other. When I asked her if that was all she loved about Point Loma she responded that there were actually three reasons she chose PLNU. It is by the beach, she loves the Christian atmosphere, and there are friendly people. I thought that was interesting because it was those very things that drew me to this school. But once I was here, I initially had a hard time finding my place among the Christian atmosphere I had so looked forward to joining. When I asked her if it was the same way, she told me that she actually loved it so far. She told me that if she was going through something, all she had to do was go down her hall to find someone who was there for her and had probably gone through the same thing and could give her the encouragement she needed.
When the whistle blew for my game to begin, we shared a smile, the kind that implied we had just become the wave-across-caf-lane kind of friends. Once of us having found their place, and the other, still searching.