Made some rice in my fantabulous rice cooker today.  Yum. 

I'm finally getting some time to rest so after loading the dishwasher, decompressing, and finishing reading Three Cups of Tea, I though I'd sit down and see what comes. 

There's so much to do out there.  If I sit down and think about it, it's difficult for me to grasp why I'm just sitting down thinking about it.  There are coral reefs in Puhket I've never even dreamed of before.  There are those redwoods I've only imagined in my mind.  There are places in Afghanistan I've never even heard of, with children I've never seen playing in groves and poppy fields I've never encountered before. 

And what of it? 

Sitting here wondering when I'll have time to fill out some mindless question-and-answer sheet that will supposedly grant me some necessary credentials.  (Rather be on Xanga, apparently.)  Wondering what I'll do tomorrow night as I hang out with my kids as I sponsor their class party.  (I think it'll be great.)  Wondering what I'll tell the boys I am counseling about how to handle their griefs, their struggles, and most importantly, their wavering faith. 

We all need something to live for, don't we?  The most effective torture in the world is not one of pain, deprivation, or stress.  From what I understand, they are the ones which deny a person of identity, of progress, of having some shred of effect in this world...  what's worse than a physical pain is the sense of personal uselessness... 

I think High School life is difficult in this sense.  Identity is difficult to come by, and dreams are not yet formed, let alone put in the oven to potentially half-bake.  I empathize with them while being incredulous at myself for wanting to tread back into this same territory.  But I love them for their struggles.  I don't know why.  It just makes me love them. 

It gives me hope.  If I could love these crazy, confused, hyper, depressed, too-cool kids...  I know that no one is unlovable to Christ.  Sometimes I think these words are so hollow.  And when I look back at myself, I'm amazed.  How did I get here?  Why have I come? 

I found myself explaining to one of my students today that the Bible is more than just a hodgepodge of inspirational texts for me.  It is more than just a historical account.  It's more than a tool that I use for an occasional pick-me-up or bash-you-on-the-head.  It is a book of life's natural laws.  Not in the legislative sense, but in the sense we use for Newton's Laws.  It is a book that reminds me of what's true, and real, and beautiful.  It helps check me when I need guidance and the bigger picture...  and more than that, it's the voice of a friend. 

As the evening draws to a close, I'm optimistic.  I hope it's not just the vitamin B complexes talking, but I think I'll make it to Thanksgiving break.  I sliced my thumb open (again) today as I struggled absent-mindedly with a persimmon, but I am excited for tomorrow, for fellowshipping, and even for the long weeks ahead... 

I learned today that I use my left thumb surprisingly infrequently when I type...  it's leave of absense is going without a single hitch. 

On that day they will say to Jerusalem,
       "Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands hang limp.
       The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save.
       He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love,
       he will rejoice over you with singing."

"The sorrows for the appointed feasts I will remove from you;
       they are a burden and a reproach to you."    -Zepheniah 3:16-18

Have you ever had those God-hug days? 

Last week was rough.  Especially the beginning of the week.  This week has started off rough already (and it's only Monday.)  But sometime towards the end of last week, I got a huge God-hug.  Got to laugh with Him, talk with Him, sing with Him...  happily receiving His gifts.  It keeps me going.   

I know these times are rare, and I'm almost sad because I feel as though I must have really needed it.  This is my self-sufficiency speaking, and I know it's something that must die.  It's a strange thing to love God and yet consider His providence as a sign of personal weakness...  crazy, huh?  It was a rough week.  And this time, I choose to revel in His joy.  It's the masochist in me rearing its ugly head. 

It's the small things in life I enjoy the most.  One of my personal joys is having inside jokes with people who are close to me.  (Sometimes I have inside jokes with myself...  but that's a secret.)  Perhaps God, knowing this, chose this venue to laugh with me this week. 

I was looking for a song in the hymnal all this past week.  I had an idea of it in my mind but for some reason, I couldn't think of the title.  Ever had that happen?  I could almost hear it in my mind and feel it in my throat but couldn't get it past the tip of my tongue.  I flipped through literally hundreds of pages but eventually decided to get over it.  Then, on Sabbath, for the special post-baptismal (this was a treat as well...  I absolutely love baptisms) song, they sang that hymn!  I almost laughed out loud for joy.  Actually, I think I might have had a more-than-audible chuckle with my finger on my lap pointing up to Heaven.  I wish I could give Him a Heavenly high-five. 

And to kick it all off, the one week I need it the most, there's a Rocky marathon going on all this week!  (I am a hopeless fan of the Rocky series.  Yes, they're a little bloody, but I never fail to be inspired.  Sometimes life isn't clean either, right?)  Funny, huh, how a silly Rocky marathon can make me so happy. 

Anyway.  I'm grateful for this respite.  I got to hang out with some of my boys this weekend...  took some of them out for a bite since they worked hard at the mission trip yard sale.  Spoke with my girls...  I'm glad that they feel comfortable enough to call me at home after school's been out...  I love that I can speak of Christ to them. 

There is so much more I want to do, so much more I have to do....  so much more that needs to be done.  But as for me, God is doing "exceeding abundantly" above all that I can ask for or think of.  There is inspiration for me everywhere: the blazing sunsets, the amazing peaking foliage in central VA, the smell of morning, hugs and spontaneous signs of affection from my too-cool students...  what day can't I face? 

My heart is ablaze.

I'm here.  Alive. 

This is try six. 

This is all I have.

I love my students.  I love the object lessons they afford me about the government of God.  

I love that they make me love God more every day. 

Tired!  But then again, what's new?  I've actually had a really restful past couple of days... 

I've realized that I depend a lot on tomorrow.  Maybe it's my personality.  Apparently, INFJ's are inherently future-oriented.  Not that I put too much weight into these personality profiles (sometimes I come out to be INTJ), but since the MBTI (that's the name of the assessment) measures things differently, or maybe because it does, I've put some thought into it. 

"This too shall pass," is extremely comforting to me.  When something happens, I'm almost immediately ahead of it, gauging, assessing, analyzing, and perfecting it.  Rarely do I live in the moment.  Perhaps this is why hope is of special import to me.  Where there is hope, my arm of faith reaches.  But where I find no place for hope, my world trembles.  Without a vision, I really do perish.

There are rare cases when I see no hope for the future.  Being a Christian has taken care of much of those worries for me.  But I find that the time of greatest trial and temptation are those when I am discouraged at the prospect of what I see the future holding: no change, no hope, no way out. 

I believe that much of the Bible prophets found themselves in the same situation.  Elijah, when confronted with Jezebel's threats, fled to the caves.  His flight, to me, was not so much fear as it is discouragement.    In other words, I'm not convinced he took off just because he was afraid of a ranting woman.  (Although I won't deny that the rage of a slighted woman is definitely something to be wary of.)  I'm wondering if it could've been because he got discouraged. 

I'm saying this not because of some quality eisegesis at work, but because of the words that come from the prophet himself.  When he finally arrives at the desert, alone and tired, he says, "I have had enough, Lord.  Take my life; I am no better than my fathers." (1 Kings 19:4.) 

"I've had enough."  This does not sound like the words of a terrified man.  This sounds like me when I have to deal with the same "character building experiences" over and over and over again.  This sounds like the words of a man who is exhausted and the hope of peace can not pierce the clouds of discouragement. 

"I've had enough."  Sometimes there are times when I'm just tired of fighting.  I tell Him that sometimes: "Lord, I'm tired of fighting."  Elijah was spiritually exhausted.  "Take my life; I am no better than my fathers."  Sometimes the temptation is to just throw in the towel.  Death is sometimes a welcome respite to depression and discouragement.  Elijah no longer saw the worth of it all...  no change, no support, no vision.

"I've had enough."  I'm adding this again because it's what Dr. P would do.  =)  But seriously, do you get my point about Elijah not running from fear but because he's honestly just tired of it all?  Have you ever just been tired of it all? 

From here, Elijah experiences a mini-revival.  An angel comes to him (twice), feeds him, and affirms him: "Get up and eat, because the journey is too much for you."  And on the strength of this mini-revival, he runs on it for 40 days and 40 nights until he gets to Horeb.  That's when the story that's better known picks up (with the storm and fire and the seven thousand.)  It's interesting to note that there is first revival and then another encounter of a different kind... 

I'd say more because suddenly I want to do a Bible study on 1 Kings 19, but I'm getting sidetracked.  The point is, Elijah's flight stemmed from discouragement.  He ran.  But he also ran back.  Where is there to go anyway?  "To whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.  We believe and know that You are the Holy One of God."  (John 6:67, or roundabouts.) 

So I've been thinking.  Although I don't worry about tomorrow in the practical, "what am I going to do/wear/buy/marry/watch-out-I-did-say-marry/eat" sense, I do invest a lot in what my projected future.  The glorious thing is that this future is usually wide open and full of hope, options, and support.  Usually. 

Then there are those times when I just can't see past the clouds.  When I wonder how much longer this has to go on.  When I think I've just hit my limit and I don't see change on the horizon.  When all my efforts are like pounding my fists against an oncoming tidal wave. 

But there is hope.  Not only for tomorrow.  But for today.

So this is the song that's been on my mind:

Father God
Just for today
Help me walk the narrow way
Help me stand when I might fall
Give me the strength to heed Your call

May my steps be worship, may my thoughts be praise
May my words bring glory to Your name
May my steps be worship, may my thoughts be praise
May my words bring glory to Your name.

I think this may well be the longest xanga break I've taken in recent history.   

Crazy things are happening.  Bailout plans failing.  Economy tanking.  Who knew?  I keep remembering a long time ago, talking to this guy at work about the American economy failing and the euro taking over.  After I said that I felt really dumb about spewing off on something I knew nothing about, but hey.  Look at that.  Marek, remember, you heard it there first. 

I had a dream the other night.  It's one of those which I wish had meaning but perhaps is just one of those toss-and-turn dog dreams.  I'll share it here since I already told one of my students.  It wants to be told. 

I was at a lake (I don't remember anymore who I was with, although it was a fair sized group, or where it was.  Dreams have a tendency to erase themselves, don't they?)  I hadn't come dressed to swim, but I decided to wade out anyway, and found myself in the water.  A short while later, I found myself heads-up breaststroke-ing away from the group.  I was going at a pretty good clip, and just enjoying the speed and the freedom of the water. 

As I swam, I noticed out of the corner of my eye (heads-up breaststroke allows you to keep your head above water at all times) that something was coming towards me from somewhere in the middle of the lake quite a distance from where I was.  I could see the wake it was leaving behind in the water, and although it was pretty far away, the shadow was pretty large, and it was moving fast.  As soon as I saw it, I thought to myself, "That's an alligator." 

I remember swimming as fast as I could to the shore, thinking I'd have a better chance on land than in the water.  The thing followed me there, and although the events that transpired immediately after it hit the land is becoming quite fuzzy, I remember grabbing a rock just larger than the size of my hand. 

Breaking here to say that lately I've been seeing a lot of object lessons around me in the form of animals. Well, more specifically bugs, but whatever, right?  Maybe this is why this dream stuck out to me.  And even more specifically because I'm really praying lately about revival in my life.  I think I hit a speed bump or something on the way, but perhaps what I see as a speed bump is really something else.  A step up, perhaps?  Who knows.  I'm willing to defer to a higher authority on that one.  The night I had the dream, I was studying about suffering, temptations, and how to deal with them.  I'll share that sometime, too. 

Anyway, back to the alligator.  That thing was huge.  All I remember is taking the rock I had in my hand and bringing it down as hard as I could on top of the thing's head.  One shot.  I think it was enough to stun the animal and I stumbled away back to the group.

From here, the details are getting fuzzy again, but I think I told one person.  I think I remember him being the chaplain here at the school.  I don't remember.  He's a pretty strong guy for a person his age.  Really sturdy, strong, and dependable.  Worker of the land, that type.  But for some reason, I ended up going back to the scene alone.  Curiosity got me.  I wanted to see if it was still there.  You know what I found?

The alligator!  And it was dead.  I had killed it with a rock the size of my hand.  (I doubt this is possible in reality.)  I could see the indentation I had made during the initial altercation.  I think I even felt it with my palm.  The thing was huge.  Dark.  Strong.  I picked up the rock I had used and noticed that it had some writing, or a piece of a larger written work on it.  I couldn't make it out, but the thought occurred to me that I ought to make sure the alligator was good and dead.  So like any self-respecting, intelligent, forward-thinking person, I took the rock and started to bash it against the dead animal's skull. 

Except I don't remember this happening.  I think this was when I woke up with this horrendous stomach ache.  I also remember feeling quite uncoordinated as my initial rush wore off and "reality" set in.  I don't even remember the chronology of events at this point.  But I thought my battle with the alligator was something blog-worthy.  What do you think?

Maybe not.

I think my devotion last night was tremendously more blog-worthy but for now, I am encouraged to think that this alligator can be an object lesson for me.  These past few weeks have been pretty exhausting.  A lot of things have changed since last year, and it's been hard.  It's definitely not a charmed year (figuratively) like last year was.  Last year...  it's one of those high years.  I have those once in a while. 

But if my dream had gone the way I would write it, I would've swam towards it full-steam instead of booking it towards land.  Maybe not.  But you'd have to hear my devotion to know what I'm talking about. 

Anyway.  I am half-dead or half-alive (I don't know if this would work like the glass analogy does) and I already know that this post is complete lunacy.  But it's all I got to give right now.  All my creativity, grammatical prowess, and meager writing skills have exited out the back way and I don't know how to get them back.  And even if I knew, I'm not sure if I have the energy or the time efficiency to make it work. 

But the crazy thing is that this is what I love about writing.  It is one small way we are made in the image of God: the power of creation.  And here I have created a limp mutant of a post that is hobbling its way across the Al-Gore-created-internet.  It may be a mutant.  But it wasn't here a few minutes ago.  I made it. 

And I'll make it.  I'll get back up.  Even though xanga thinks all hyphenated words are misspelled.  Even though all my creations are hobbly and misshappen.  Perhaps they too will rise up new and perfect.  I can't wait to learn everything I can after that great gettin' up morning. 

I'm close. 

If there's a gauge that measures stress levels, mine is starting to shudder towards the 'burnout' mark.  The area on the meters that are marked off in red to indicate danger.  So far, the stress levels have been fine.  Enjoyable, almost.  I like working under pressure, and a good amount is not only tolerable but sometimes necessary for me to be more efficient. 

Burnout.  It can't be.  Not now.  It's too early.  I've factored in some variables however, and there seems to be sufficient evidence for me to be able to chalk this off as a fluke that'll pass (it's called PMS phase three.  You males out there should count yourself blessed.)  I'm feeling discouraged.  But I refuse to be discouraged.  Do you know the difference?  It's a big one. 

Delight yourself in the LORD and He will give you the desires of your heart."  -Psalm 37:4

Today I had the opportunity to think about this verse.  And whether or not I really believed it.  Do I believe it? 

And then I thought: Hm.  What are the desires of my heart?

So I started to list off some of my heart's desires.  And maybe it was because it was the Holy Spirit.  Or maybe it was because when I think 'heart' I think of something deeper than just superficial desires.  Or maybe it was because of where I was.  But my desires were honest.  Specific.  Plentiful.  And I was thinking of deeper things, not just the superficial needs of my hectic, near-exhausted life.  My heart started speaking its yearnings in clear, simple tones.

I wonder how God hears my prayers now that I heard what my heart really sounded like. 

And then I looked at these kids.  My charges now that I'm working at an Academy.  It's the same deal almost every day.  Prayer requests are for tests, quizzes, academia, smattered in with prayers for family, friends, health...  and yet the cries of our heart are all the same.  For love.  For security.  For stability.  For peace, joy, and innocence.  Some of these kids have so many burdens.  Abuse.  Addictions.  Loneliness.  Fear. 

When it boils down to it, we live our lives scrambling to fill these needs...  we make irreversible mistakes because we take the solution of an instant which seems to hold promise of a desire fulfilled... 

We try to cover up the tiny blemishes, ignoring the ballooning pimple underneath.

But there is only one who can fulfill the desires of our heart.  Only one who can really fill the need.  Sometimes we don't believe that He can.  Sometimes we're afraid that He'll say no.  Sometimes we're afraid that He'll have some strange alternative plan that'll deviate so far from what we want that we prefer to fight it out our way.

He's the only one who can do it.  And wherever we go, if He is there, we'll be ok.  But sometimes we just don't believe that.  We just don't trust it.  We just don't want to risk it all...  but wherever we are, if He's there, we're ok.  Whoever we are, if He's there, we're ok.  And He so longs to give us the desires of our heart.  He hears it above our own (oftentimes) whining prayers.  He's more intimately aware of what we need than we are.  And He's so capable of giving it to us.  And so willing to do so.  But we don't believe.

And when we see how much God can do for us, and how much we are getting in the way...  I remind myself of the father of the demon-posessed child.  The father had tried everything but his beloved child was as bad as ever.  And then comes Jesus, and with Him, hope, and the father cries out, "If you can do anything...  have compassion on us..." 

And Jesus tells Him that the compassion part is not the problem...  the power is there.  He asks, Do you really believe I can do this?  All things are possible to those who believe....

And there he is, wanting it so bad but he has no idea what do do.  And there he is, desperate and crying out, "I want to really believe this!  I want to believe it so bad...  but I don't know how...  help me even in this..." 

And there I am, on my knees, crying out, I want to believe!  Help thou mine unbelief... 

Sometimes we don't even know how to believe.  We don't know what it means that God can and will fulfil the desires of our heart.  But He is able.  All things are possible if you believe.

Do you believe...? 

I want to know everything. 

Lately, I've found myself wanting to be everything too. 

Today, I thought I would have time.  I thought that since my seniors were gone (along with some of my professional distractors) I'd get some work done.  I thought that since I didn't have any classes today (I canceled some of them and since I'm on block, I don't have some anyway) I'd dig myself out somewhat. 

I was wrong.

But today was enriching in a different way...  not in a way where there were burdens shuffled off (in fact, there were some put on) but in a quiet way.  I woke up today with a hymn in my head (He lives!) and I wonder in hindsight if that meant it was going to be a good day or a bad day that I had to be prepared for.  Maybe it was just a hymn in my head.  Whatever the case might've been, I was happy for it.

There's this dream that I indulge in.  Usually I don't like letting myself dwell in thoughts that are useless.  Although there are many things that are arguably more useful than they seem, this one is really, truly useless. 

Lately, time has not been on my side.  But nowadays, space is not on my side either.  And I don't mean space in the where-Pluto-which-is-no-longer-a-planet-is space.  I mean space as in physical space.  The material space that coexists with time.  Space as in the constraints of the physical body.

Ok, I'll just come right out and say it.  I've found myself wishing (more than a few times throughout the day) that I could be in more than one place at a time. 

See?  Stupid and useless. 

But I think about it.  I wonder how that would work.  I wonder how one person can experience simultaneous time while being in different places.  I wonder how that would be possible (it wouldn't); I wonder if I were to work with myself, how I would interact with me (it might be fun, boring, frustrating, or oh yeah, impossible!); and I wonder what cool things I would do if I were free to do it all at the same time (useless thoughts.)

I really do want to know everything.  And by everything, I don't mean everything.  I just mean everything I'm interested in.  And that's a lot.  I want to know how things work.  I want to know why, when using the midpoint theorem in Geometry, they get the average of points instead of using zero as a set point.  I want to know where Shakespeare got the phrase 'willy nilly' and how he got the world to use it.  I want to know angles of refraction and how it applies to the glass in the door of my office.  I want to know how planes work.  I want to know everything.  And more than that, I want to remember. 

Being able to split myself would be more than helpful in working towards this.  But again comes the conundrum of how multiple entities of a single person would experience the present.  Would we just combine our masses of information?  Who would be the "me" that experiences it all?  Would we all benefit?  Why am I indulging in this?

But if I could, I would be so many things.  I'm finding that I'm passionate about so much and have so little time and space to do it, never mind the ability.  I would be a teacher, right where I am, because I love it.  I would go out and explore countries and visit canyons and gorges because I think they're amazing.  I would learn how to fly or at least try parasailing.  I would become a family counselor because I'm so heartbroken at the broken families out there and how it affects people, their lives, and their ministries.  I would participate in sports, go to volleyball camp, set up an Ultimate Frisbee intramural team, and play with my students.  I would go to Africa and live there for a few years.  I would go to Peru, and live in the dusty hills.  I'd...  or maybe I wouldn't. 

And then I get frustrated.  Besides the fact that one of me is enough for me to deal with...  imperfect (highly) as I am, why would I want to multiply my own sorrows?  If I had the chance, right now, would I do it, or are the constraints of nature just an excuse?  I don't regret much of my major decisions because they have made me who I am.  Do I really want to live that much more of life?  (No, I really don't.  Life sucks sometimes.) 

And before I shake my fist at the limits of physics, I remind myself not to curse what God has created and has deemed "very good." 

My restlessness comes from seeing the need out there and wanting to fill it.  Seeing the questions out there and wanting to answer them.  Seeing the brokenness out there and wanting to mend them.  And yet who am I to do it?  Who am I to stand up?  Who am I to see a need in others when there are 2x4's sticking out from every part of me, let alone my own eye?  Who am I to think I would solve these things, even if I could? 

And so I lean to be content.  I must.  And instead of dreaming uselessly about how much better it would be if I could just do everything and know everything, perhaps I could work on just bettering me.  That by itself is a huge task, and I am certainly not up for multiplying that. 

But my heart was touched today.  I found myself broken and helpless.  I just want to help.  I just want Jesus to come back and take it all away.  I talked about homesickness in chapel yesterday to my girls.  Homesickness, not for where momma's cooking is, but homesickness for Heaven.  This world is not my home.  I'm willing to wait until I can really start my quest to know everything I'm interested in.  But I just want the pain to go away. 

I just want to go home. 

Hebrews 11:13-16

A lot of my students have been coming into my office telling me that they miss last year.

And a lot has changed since last year. 

We've adopted a partial block schedule, got a new principal, increased enrollment by about 50, and rearranged the schedule.  Music groups have changed their conductor, become more selective, or have been moved to more difficult time slots. 

I miss last year too. 

I didn't start this year off very well...  came in with a nasty summer cold I picked up on the last weekend of my vacation.  Found out that because they know they have a "specialist" in school they let in a whole bunch of kids with learning needs.  Maybe a disproportionate amount.  Classes are still crazy.  Still getting to know the kids while trying to get them on top of their academics. 

I don't know what I was doing last year at this time, but I don't remember it being this bad. 

And my seniors are leaving me this week for a retreat.  I'm going to miss them.  This might be the break I need though.  I've canceled my college-level class which will open up the afternoon for me to get caught up.  Sigh.  And on top of that, I've been PMSing.  Yes, I know you needed to hear that.  But this just compounds the problem.  Of all the days I need my sanity, it decides to go on hiatus.  Hiatus!  Or maybe even a sabbatical.  Sanity!  Come back!  I need you...  ...

I've still been thinking a lot.  Wondering about stuff.  God is teaching me about myself.  I'm learning how to manage myself.  I think.  Maybe He's trying to teach me that I can't.  This whole surrender thing seemed to have come a lot easier before...  why is it so difficult now?  And all I can think of is Galatians 3:1....  O you foolish Galatians...  who has bewitched you?  ...having begun in the Spirit, are you now made perfect by the flesh?

Tomorrow is another long day.  We're taking the kids out to a lake.  It's going to be crazy.  I'm not liking the Freshman very much this year.  Maybe it's because I'm not their sponsor anymore.  (Boo-yah!  Ahem, I mean, too bad...)  The sophomores don't like the freshmen either ("That was you last year," I remind them, but they insist they were much more mature than that.) 

Anyway.  I am soliciting prayers because I am at my wit's end.  I am avalanched under and breathing through a straw.  I am looking for my white flag.  I am just about ready to walk away from it all...  except for the minor problem of the students I love.  Rats.

Through it all though, there is one consistent strand...  through all my fluctuations and variability, there is one constant.  Through the sifting sands of time, He has been my Rock.  I don't know life without Him anymore.

I'm exhausted.  O Lord, let it not be that I'm burning out already.  I've got so much more I have yet to do.  And yet this exhaustion is not the kind I shirk from.  My body is tired by my spirit is still so willing.  Perhaps I'm forgetting that this is just part of package during the first month of school.  Once I dig out, it'll be fine...  I'll be fine... 

I love these students.  I spent vespers and afterglow with them today.  There are so many that I love there and that I am getting so close to.  I can't believe how much they've consumed me.  Completely taken me over.  I can't believe I'm in a position to be a real part of their lives.  I can't believe that I'll be in yearbooks and memories and a part of "Do you remember in Miss Song's room..."  stories.  I can't believe my Juniors are Seniors now...  and they're going to graduate.  (I know....  it's only August, but we're already talking about it as though it's the end of the world!)  I can't believe my Freshmen are Sophomores and my Sophomores are Juniors and...  (I never said this would make sense...)

But I love the Sabbath.  I love these hours inhabited by God and His blessing.  I love this institution of rest when God specifically blessed not only space but time...  I love the peace He has brought me today and the promise of tomorrow.  I love that He has saved me with this commission of working with these crazy High Schoolers.     

"Let us not be weary in well doing, for in due season, we shall reap, if we faint not." 

That verse in Galatians has been a comfort for me today.  Sometimes we can't see the due season.  Sometimes what we're searching for is right in front of us.  Sometimes it takes looking away from ourselves to find the peace and joy that always seems so elusive.  Sometimes we get weary.  But the exhortation to not be so tired is in the look of faith to the time of harvest... 

I wonder at the patience and graciousness of God...  He saw in me what I thought would be impossible.  He found in me peace and love that still passes my understanding.  These students have consumed me, but I have already been consumed.  Through and through.  My God has found me, and he has been found of me. 

The road is broken.  There is still a lot yet to be done and if I stop to count my own shortcomings, it is crippling and utterly devastating.  And yet I stand up and press forward.  This time, not only for myself, but for these kids.  For their futures.  For their roads. 

And if and when this "due season" comes... I wanna be up there with them to look back and celebrate it.  I wanna sit at the welcome table.  I wanna put on that long, pure, spotless white robe.  I wanna feast on milk and honey.  I want to look in my Savior's face and find that that is what I've been looking for all my life: that glory.  That pearl of great price.  That best friend.  That all in all.  I wanna be there.  And I want to take these kids with me. 

So badly. 

Busy as expected.  I can't even count the hours.  Still more to go.  Still love these kids.

Enjoy vid.  It's all I got.