What’s the frequency?

I spent this past weekend in Greenville with my fiancé. The weekend was a reconnecting of sorts with old roommates, college friends, Church family, etc. I stayed the nights in my old dorm room. An aside here would be that during my college years my dorm room was a place of conversation, my old roommate would say this is because we had a loveseat in our room; however, perhaps there is more to E6 than a small sofa with only room for one as clothes, books, and whatever else passed through our hands took up residence where another might “take a load off.” After dinner with my old roommate and his girlfriend, a crash course in breaking and entering, and saying goodnight to Cortney I returned, quilt and pillow in hand, to my old room. After no more than seconds of being in the room (which was empty at the time) two guys clad in t-shirts and baseball caps entered with a “staying the night?”
“Yes,” I replied as the nostalgic breeze blew through my college days.
“Do you know Matt or something?” was the question that interrupted the breeze and returned my attention to the conversation at hand.
“Yes, Matt is my old suitemate. I used to live in this room.”
With these words the visitors sat down (there is no longer a loveseat in the room). Looking for a place to sit myself I noticed a light coming from a room across the hall, this light caught my eye due to the lobby being unlit at the time. The conversation with the two visitors lasted for about 15 minutes, most of which was me asking questions and listening to responses. The conversation ended with handshakes and a hearty “maybe we’ll see you around,” but this was not before a third visitor arrived emerging from the room across the hall, possibly drawn over by the sound of voices. The third visitor looked older than the first two and possessed a certain calm. He sat in a vacant desk chair and listened to my farewell with the two younger visitors. To be honest I was ready for bed and not in the mood for another conversation. Somewhat distracted by going through my bag I introduced myself and asked the new visitor his name.
“I’m Kenneth, it is nice to meet you” was the smiling reply.
“What’s your major?” I asked trying to hurry the conversation along.
“Sports management,” the gentle visitor said.
He proceeded to tell me that he wanted to be an equipment manager when he finished school because he thought is was a good “avenue” to share Christ. Our conversation lasted close to an hour with Kenneth providing a prayer and a brotherly embrace before he shuffled off across the unlit lobby to his room. After brushing my teeth I collapsed into bed and thought a moment about this second visitor.
“The avenues of grace have many streets.” I thought to myself as I envisioned the gentle visitor’s mannerisms.
“Jesus, take me to sunrise from indigo.”