Two weeks ago, I started this post:
It's Saturday night, class starts Monday, and I'm lying on the couch NOT getting bronchitis (I've been not getting bronchitis for a week now). It's my fifth year. FIFTH. Wow. For those of you who aren't familiar with the program, it's a four year curriculum. So this year, I teach the New Testament - the same lessons I taught the first year. While of course I'll customize them for this group, it's exciting to think that there won't be as many hours needed.
But today, I finally feel better after three weeks of not getting bronchitis. I don't feel overwhelmed, or discouraged, needy, or teary - my primary emotions for the last two weeks. I do, however feel very very behind.
So behind, that I didn't notice that the last day of summer has passed me by. For those of you playing aloong with Read for Fun, be assured that I'm still playing and plan to post more stuff. Let's give it until the first weekend of October, and call it good.
Despite my discouragement, I did have some lovely moments over the last two weeks. The students in my class are wonderful as ever, and sacrifice a lot to be at class. That's part of the problem -- how could any teacher, especially me, be enough for these teenage wonders? Cinnamon rolls, Isaiah Days, and an ever-expanding-bucket of colored pencils are not the answer. I have to TEACH. I have to teach in a way that encourages them to think deeply and to teach each other.
Last Wednesday, I went to a training meeting. There I was surrounded by teachers that have real problems. They have, and I'm not exaggerating, faced flood, accidents, and REAL health issues (I'm talking blindness, as opposed to my prolongued cough). Almost all of them have families who they have to feed and love and support. And then there's me.
Okay, back to the lovely moments.
It was just a few weeks ago that I had a strong impression that maybe it was okay that my house suffers from deferred maintenance; that areas of it are cluttered; that I don't have enough bookcases; that I don't finish all of my projects; that I'd rather read a book or play than do what I'm supposed to do. Maybe that's exactly what the Lord needs at this time. Maybe he needs a grasshopper instead of an ant?
It was just last week that I looked back over the first week of class, and a particularly harried week at work, and a week of planning and helping at a fundraiser, and realized that I had been magnified so much that I hadn't even recognized it in the midst of it all. I could never have accomplished all of that on my own. I needed heavenly magnification.
That quilt up there, my mom's latest quilt, is filled with stars and color and light. Do you know what the first few chapters of the four gospels focus on? Stars, and angels in glory, hope, and LIGHT. So here we go, leaping into the light. Magnified and hopeful.