<w. edits>

I love going to church.  I love having a day of rest.  I love having a slice of time devoted to "I do not have to think about work."  I love having this time for God.  Sabbath means a lot to me.  Practically.  Personally.  Theologically. 

And yes, that is a real picture of my church.  It's a little larger than the ones I'm used to, but I love meeting with people and sharing experiences of our personal walks with Christ.  And there are a lot more people here with a lot more experiences to share. I enjoy praying and fellowshipping with them.   

That one is not a picture of my church.  We currently do not have Jack Russells (or kittens) on our books.  Some children, yes.  But we do like to pray.  And study the Bible. 

Each week before the main service starts, we have a little time in the morning where we gather to do Bible Studies, share our thoughts, and reflect on scripture.  We call this Sabbath School.  I love Sabbath School.  In my class, we have all sorts of people with varying ages, ethnicities, and experiences. 

But I noticed one thing: tall, short, young or old, we are all human.  (Astounding observation, I know.)  We talked about this during our meeting too.  We are human.  We tend to demand that everyone else sin like we do if we do not particularly like others' brand of sin.  Whether it be in post-modern America, in war-torn Germany during WWII, or during the times of Christ, we are all linked with the same thread of human weakness.  The struggles I have are the struggles that others have had, or continue to have.  The barriers I encounter are the same that people 20 years older than I have.  We all end up carrying the same burdens.

It makes me wonder.  If I'm going to have the same issues 20 years from now (if time lasts that long)...  where is this going?  Granted, you don't step into the same river twice, but it all seems futile. 

Is this futile?  Am I pedaling without getting anywhere?  Is there hope for humanity?  Or for the growing Christian?  Personally, I'm not too keen on struggling with the same old issues again and again.  And again.  For 20 years. 

Is there a point where one can stand up and say, "The buck stops here!"?  Can we escape this crazy cycle of ups and downs and revolving back to the same old problems cloaked and manifesting in a different time, space, and age bracket? 

Is there a way out of this confusion?  Is it even something to be confused about?  I'm confused.  Where am I again?  Oh yeah. 

Hope.  I tell you I am obsessed with hope lately.  As long as there is tomorrow, as long as there is a choice I can make, there is hope.  Free will is the biggest channel of hope that has been given to us by God.  This is the enmity given to us...  the ability to make a choice.  Today.  Tomorrow.  The power to change.  To grow.  To not look back or crawl up and down the same road again.  And again. And again.  The power to choose Him, the desire of all nations, the Blessed Hope of all time.

He is the one who can free us from the same old cycle.  The same old routine.  The same old sin-repent-rinse-repeat cycle.  Not to say that we will not struggle with the same sins ever again.  Perhaps we do so because the devil finds some age-old tricks extremely reliable and effective.  But God is the releaser of captives, the mender of broken hearts (Luke 4:18)...  He came to seek and save the lost (Luke 19:10).  He came so that we might have life, and have it more abundantly (John 10:10.)  I believe God is able. 

I know He can break the cycle.  I want Him to break the cycle.

Perhaps this is the curse of humanity: the curse of Sisyphus: pushing that stupid rock up the hill only to have it roll down again and having to do it over and over again.  (Interestingly, this was a punishment for his superciliousness: thinking he was able to outwit the gods...  which he actually did, until they exercised their 'power.'  Such is also the result of our own hubris, perhaps?) 

I believe that making goals and prioritizing Christ is the only way out of this mess.  The only way out of the cycle.  To turn our eyes to Him...  daily.   

This year was wonderful to me.  But my eyes are already on the future.  I have a list of dreams and goals.  They are not curriculum related.  I want to seek Him first, and I believe that all the other things can and will be taken care of.   So I've written a few goals down for the coming year.  (I won't share them here.  Yet.) 

I already know it is going to be tough to follow through on.  Why?

They call us the "green berets" of Christian education: boarding academy teachers are right in the front lines of spiritual battle... 

You wouldn't trust half-starved, sleep-deprived soldiers to fight in your front lines, would you?  Why would I let myself do so?  And yet, perhaps, I have.  (Spiritually speaking, of course.)  Don't think you're exempt...  we are all on our own front lines. 

Sometimes I believe I may have let my ministry be my God instead of letting God do what He does best: save.  I have already proven myself extremely incapable of doing that.  I think I will let Him do His job: in my students, yes, but primarily in me first. 

1 Cor. 9:23: "...So run, that ye may obtain.  I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air:  But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway."

As for Sisyphus and his stone...  perhaps we will find, as those women did more than 2000 years ago...  "But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away."  (Mark 16:3)

Do you believe...?

Commencement today.  I am happy for these guys.  I'm remembering my own High School commencement: the happiest moment of my life (at that point in my history.)  I didn't expect to feel as reflective as I did...  perhaps its because of my shifting hormones.  Sigh.  The shackles of the female body.

I'm truly happy that these kids are going out into the world...  ready to experience new things, make new decisions, reach new heights...  a small part of me, however, wishes for more time, particularly for some specific students, including one that made a decision for baptism and stepped down into a stream to rise up into the newness of Christ...  I wish I had more time...  I wish I had done more... 

Enough.  That word often plagues me.  There are times when I am satisfied and ready to let go.  There are other times when I am helpless and hopeless, knowing that although I have done my part...  I have not done enough. 

There is a scene from Schindler's List that resounds in my heart.  It is the concluding scene during which he is anguishing that he has not done enough...  this man who had saved thousands of Jews from death...  weeping because he knew he could have done more...  "I could have got more...  I didn't do enough..." 

I wept when I saw this scene.  I had to remove myself from the room to save my dignity, even as a teenager, when I first saw the movie. 

But I am reminded that salvation, success, and merit does not lie in private assessments...  Click here for a post on this thought...  I understand that my place is the same place as these kids: one in which I am called to seek God first.  All these things...  the desires of my heart, the aspirations of my soul, the dreamings of my mind...  they will follow. 

So here I go.  Done looking back and ready to step forward again. 

Congratulations, class of 2008.  As God has allowed me to make my own decisions, so shall He do for you.  As God has protected, guided, and saved me, may you find that joy in Him as I did. 

Here's to a big, wide, God-filled world.

Wow.  I'm glad it hasn't been like this week all year long...  I think I would've collapsed. 

Final exam week.  My office is bustling.  Not 5 consecutive minutes to myself.  Kids are (as the English teacher would call them) "squirrelly."  I am about to lose my mind.  Lose my mind...  lose my mind....  for some reason, my finger keeps hitting a "t" instead of an "e": lost...  lost my mind....  must be something subconscious...

I must prevail. 

This is a non-issue.

I will prevail.

I have been through worse. 

I am going to make it. 

And man, am I going to miss these guys during the summer.  It's a sickness, I tell you.  I'm sure it's diagnosable.  And no, it is not workaholism.  I am addicted to these kids, not to my job.  It's a dichotomy: they wear me out and build me up all at the same time.

I am singing a new theme song lately.  It's been a while since one came along...  sing with me...

The Lord's our rock, in Him we hide; a shelter in the time of storm...
Secure whatever may betide: a shelter in the time of storm...

Mighty Rock in a weary land
Cooling shade on the burning sand
Faithful guide for the pilgrim band
A shelter in the time of storm... 

A shade by day, defense by night; a shelter in the time of storm
No fears alarm, no foes affright, a shelter in the time of storm...

The raging floods may 'round us beat: a shelter in the time of storm
We find in God a safe retreat; a shelter in the time of storm

O Rock divine, O Refuge dear: a shelter in the time of storm
Be Thou our Helper ever near: a shelter in the time of storm...

--------
This isn't the worst storm I've weathered; I wouldn't even call it a storm...  but nonetheless, I am needing Divine aid for my steps.  I am devastated by the fact that I won't have my students to love and lead come next week, but desperate for some rest from this weary laboring.  I also wish I didn't have things to grade, enter, pack, and organize right when school is out for the kids.  There is still a week of post-session and campus preparations before we're "officially" released. 

People seem to expect much reflection during this period of time...  I have none.  I've been reflecting and self-evaluating the whole trip through, and these have been processed and stored, waiting for use next year.  I am satisfied.  It wasn't perfect, and perhaps not even enough, but I did what I could with what I had. 

It's not time to think things are over.  Like I've been telling my students, "It's not time to sprint yet."  They asked me why.  I tell them that if they start sprinting now, they won't have enough energy to make it to the end.  It's a marathon.  Steady.  Steady.  Wait for it.  I am a horse chomping at the bit.  Not time yet. ..

I am so blessed.  I have had a fantastic year...  couldn't have asked for better.   I had a blast, and I know my students did too.  There are a lot of mistakes, tribulations, and outright wrongs I have done as well, but these are largely expectable, understandable, and more importantly, reparable.  I have learned a whole ton, and that, in my book, is priceless.  I just need to not lose my mind until Monday.   

I can do that....    

...right?

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

Hope is the thing faith is made of...  faith is merely the grasping of the vision, the reaching forth into the oblivion of the not-yet for something that is somehow seen in the right-now... 

I have hope.  God is teaching me how to love hope: what it means to have it, and what it is to hold on to it. 

My Christian journey began with love.  It was all I saw; it was everything I saw.  I was obsessed with it, and that experience has stayed with me, drives me, and comforts me to this day.  Then came faith.  I likewise became obsessed with it, studied it, took it apart, handled it, and made it personally mine.  This experience gave me roots that hold me up to this day. 

And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:13

Hope was just a corollary to faith until recent times when it is becoming so powerfully experiential that I truly accept it as a call higher.  I am learning to love it, and am becoming similarly obsessed with it.  Because it is linked with faith so intimately, I understand it scripturally, exegetically, thoughtfully.  But experientially, it has exploded into view, perhaps as it has on previous occasions but now much more profoundly. 

Because I hope a lot nowadays.

But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more.  Psalm 71:14

Hope has brought me to my knees.  I have hoped so dearly, and have yearned so earnestly for what I saw in hope, that it has caused me to weep and pray as I have never wept and prayed before.  It is bridging together faith and love in the most remarkable way in my life, because it is love that causes me to hope, and faith which causes me to believe in this hope, beyond all other possibilities and options.

It is with hope that I see my students.  Hope in the fact that even though they express little interest in organized religion, or spiritual things, that they are indeed capable of lighting a flame that will brighten this world.  Hope that this is possible in a sex-obsessed, person-centered, devil-infested world.  Hope that there is even a small chance that this feeble and inadequate vessel can make even a small blip on the life of a single soul. 

And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. Romans 5:5

Faith acts on this hope.  Or at least it ought to.  Hope is calling my faith higher, and indeed it is calling my faith now to a place where the air is thinner perhaps than what my faith is used to.  It is calling me to act on the what is not-now.  Personally, hope is calling my faith to rise to a place where I am challenged to do what I am not capable of doing, lead where the road is uncharted, and guide in a way I never saw myself capable of doing. 

With my students, hope is calling my faith higher as well.  It is calling me to not only hope and see the potential for these students, but act on it, and help them see it.  It is calling me to treat them differently than others treat them, to even look at them differently, and to pray for them differently. 

Hope is mounting up on wings like an eagle...  did you know that eagles can go two miles up into the air?  Far above cloud cover, winds, hail storms, and other predatory birds?  Their bodies are perfect fuselages which enable them to breathe up where human lungs would cease to function. 

But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. Isaiah 40:31

Hope gives me strength.  Whether I am mounting up on wings, whether I am inspired and running, or whether I am just trying to talk through my day.

Such is hope.  And those that wait upon the Lord will have a hope that does this...  and faith is sure to follow.

Yesterday saw me waiting on my porch for rain.  It smelled of it, and sounded of it, looked of it, but the drizzle never increased.  I decided to wait.  And I waited.  And waited.  And communed with God.  And waited, even though I thought of going back indoors after a while.

After about an hour, the heavens opened, and the skies poured down rain...  it was beautiful.

Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain.  James 5:7

Christ's words of compassion are spoken to His workers today just as surely as they were spoken to His disciples.  "Come ye yourselves, and rest awhile," He says to those who are worn and weary.  It is not wise to be always under the strain of work and excitement, even in ministering to men's spiritual needs; for in this way personal piety is neglected, and the powers of the mind and soul and body are overtaxed.  Self-denial is required of the disciples of Christ, and sacrifices must be made; but care also must be exercised lest through their overzeal Satan take advantage of the weakness of humanity, and the work of God be marred. 

In the estimation of the rabbis it was the sum of righteousness to be always in a bustle of activity.  They depended on some outward performance to show their superior piety...  The same dangers still exist.  As activity increases and men become successful in doing any work for God, there is danger of trusting to human plans and methods.  There is a tendency to pray less, and to have less faith.  Like the disciples, we are in danger of losing sight of our dependence on God, and seeking to make a saviour of our activity.  We need to look constantly to Jesus, realizing that it is His power which does the work.  While we are to labor earnestly for the salvation of the lost, we must also take time for meditation, for prayer, and for the study of the word of God.  Only the work accomplished with much prayer, and sanctified by the merit of Christ, will in the end prove to have been efficient for good...

In a life wholly devoted to the good of others, the Saviour found it necessary to withdraw from the thoroughfares of travel...  He must turn aside from a life of ceaseless activity and contact with human needs, and seek retirement and unbroken communion with His Father. 

"Come ye yourselves apart," He bids us.  If we would give heed to His word, we should be stronger and more useful.  The disciples sought Jesus, and told Him all things; and He encouraged and instructed them.  If today we would take time to go to Jesus and tell Him our needs, we should not be disappointed; He would be at our right hand to help us...

-Desire of Ages, p. 362-363 (from the chapter, Come Rest Awhile)

Christ's first words to the people on the mount were words of blessing.  Happy are they, He said, who recognize their spiritual poverty, and feel their need of redemption.  The gospel is to be preached to the poor.  Not to the spiritually proud, those who clam to be rich and in need of nothing, is it revealed, but to those who are humble and contrite...

The proud heart strives to earn salvation; but both our title to heaven and our fitness for it are found in the righteousness of Christ.  The Lord can do nothing toward the recovery of man until, convinced of his own weakness, and stripped of all self-sufficiency, he yields himself to the control of God...

-The Desire of Ages, p.299-399

So there’s this girl.  Her name is Annie.  (This is not her real name.)  She came in late in the semester and was placed in my Math class…  she seemed put together enough, which I wasn’t too surprised about since she’s old for the grade (almost 18 and a frosh) and has some serious family “situations” from which she escaped.  She's a little large (she is the only one exempt from wearing uniforms since we can't accommodate her size), and the child of a military parent (I think he's in the Navy.)  At first, we got along just fine… 

...until I realized how stubborn she is.

With Annie, it's the same deal every day: Every statement is rebutted.  Every comment has a response.  Every correction has a defense.  Every mistake is followed by, “But YOU said…”  (whether it is relevant or not) and every time I call her on it, she would twist things around to make it seem as though she is just being plain ol’ sweet Annie. 

I try to get her to relax, try to have her understand that mistakes are ok, try to help her accept responsibility for her actions, try, try, try...  and slowly, I think I’m getting through.  She was upset at me for about a week at one time, but she got over it, as I knew she would.  I had many long talks with her, during which much of the time I am very upfront and honest about how things are progressing.  I told her how I believed that she had come from a place where she had needed to defend herself a lot, and cover up for herself, but that this was a place where she didn't need to do that anymore...  I don't know if I'm getting through at all. 

At this point in my career, I’ve dealt with all sorts of students (and a lot more is to come, I know.)  The ones who claim they can’t learn.  The ones who are eager to learn. The ones who want to please.  The ones who don’t have motivation.  The ones who need extra TLC.  The ones who need a different approach altogether.  The ones who want to use you as a crutch. 

I realize, though, after this experience, one of the toughest kids to teach are the stubborn ones.  The ones who think they know how things ought to be done…  the ones who think they know themselves well enough that there is only a certain way they desire to be taught, and it must be taught that way.  These are the students who drive me up and down the wall, not because it’s too difficult, but because it’s so hard to get through to them.  You can't build basics with that much resistance. 

And I'm not the only one who's observed this. 

I’ve heard her get yelled at by the librarian.  She is his worker and her obstinate attitude towards tasks have caused him to make a scene in front of the other students.  She understands one way, which incidentally is her way, and has a difficult time seeing past it and trusting others’ more experienced counsel.  She has cursed out the dean for asking her to do something she thought was not the best way.  She has caused the sweetest woman I know in the school to gently ask her to let her work and leave her be.  She is stubborn to no end...

And I am exactly like her. 

As a Christian, I know that my attitude towards God hasn’t always been the most humble.  There comes a time when I know what I want done, and how I want to do them.  Even character development is a matter to control and put into subjection…  not to say that having control in life is a bad thing.  But often as we struggle to maintain control, there is some loss of integrity, some loss of humility, some loss of the subjection of self to One who knows more. 

We ought to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.  Most people don’t really understand what it means to love oneself.  Some people will even proudly say at this juncture that they in fact do not love themselves.  That they are not happy with who they are, not content with their lot, and definitely not in love with the reflection they see in the mirror. 

CS Lewis observed that this is not the best measure of how we love ourselves.  We love ourselves by how we are so forgiving of ourselves.  So understanding of the reasons behind our faults. We are gentle with some mistakes, generous with praise, doting when comfort is needed.  Even the perfectionists  (including myself) who claim to beat themselves up over mistakes are guilty of doing so only because they are deluded with being able to attain to this high a level, even if it has resulted in failure. 

God asks us to be like little children…  after racking my mind for years as to what this can mean, I could only come up with a few clear ideas…  and one of them was simply that children are teachable.  They are sponges which absorb and learn with complete trust and dependence… 

Unlike the stubborn mentality of the spiritually aged, who already know their learning styles, already know their spiritual gifts, already know their place and walk in life, their strengths, their weaknesses, their likes and dislikes.  They’ve already gong on mission trips and worked with leaders and followers.  They have formatted prayers which revolve around the world changing to suit their needs and self changing as they see themselves being ready for.  They have the form of godliness, but in denying the power thereof, they are heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God, who asks not for perfect creatures but for teachable, leadable, lovable children. 

There is good in knowing self.  There is good in understanding gifts and talents.  The danger is not in utilizing and maximizing this knowledge.  The danger is in thinking that the solution is in this knowledge...  the danger is in mixing all this good with the leaven of conceit and stubbornness...  an unwillingness to be molded by the Molder, led by the Leader, and changed by His Spirit into new creatures...  with ever more a potential to be a vessel for honor...

Thus ends my rant. 

And no, I am not counting down the days.  Yet.  I refuse to do it. 

Wow.  I don't know how long it's been, but it's been quite a while.  April has been a crazy month, and now May has come with her own load of things to do...  but at least April is done... 

I haven't had time to do much of anything lately, let alone sit down to pound out a Xanga entry.  But my house is relatively clean, my dishwasher is running, and I am itching to communicate with the outside world. 

Updates:

I love my students.  (Yes, still, and even more w. every passing day.  Some I am developing strong ties with...) 
I love my superiors.  (I have found that this is essential for me to have a happy job.)
I love springtime in Virginia.  (Beautiful and normal weather, for once...)
I am trying to teach myself how to juggle.  (Residual college training helps.  Working up a sweat...)
I am off TV until the remainder of the school year.  (Well, I wasn't ever on TV, but I was certainly watching a lot of it, even if it was just initially CNN...  so I instituted a TV fast.  It started with just this past week.  St. Augustine once said, "Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation."  I couldn't perfectly moderate myself these past few weeks, and don't have extra energy to invest in trying.)
Yikes.  I just decided that.  3 weeks.  I can do it, right?  At least I have Xanga.
Sometime soon I am going to experiment with weaning off the computer in the evenings, too...
For some reason, the market has been selling these huge-ungous blueberries and they are taste-tay.
My fingers smell like the rubber balls I've been chasing around my house.  (Juggling isn't fluid yet.  Hence the chasing.  And the sweating.)
I talk out loud to myself a lot more often now.  Sometimes my students hear me. 

On a more serious note, I've been reading and re-reading a chapter from one of my favorite books the Desire of Ages (about the life of Christ.)  There's this one chapter entitled, "Come Rest Awhile" and it is changing the course of my life at this juncture.  I will share more as I let it sink in but it is a gentle reminder to me that in my quest to love my students, I have neglected myself... 

So...  here I go.  QT with my Lord.  Happy Sabbath all...  deep thoughts pending.

Teaching Intro to Psychology really makes me sit back and think.  We've entered into the unit on Personality, and I find myself laboring to present these ideas properly and professionally...  Freud is a tricky one, but I will yet get my students to see him under the lens of Christianity.  Watch out, Freud!  Watch out son... 

Having roughly a month go by without a decent weekend is taking a toll.  The days are starting to stretch...  it's like if you haven't eaten in a while, you are painfully aware of your hunger...  but after a long time, the pain dulls and even the food that comes can't be enjoyed as much...  Thankfully, however, it hasn't reached that point.  My students make me laugh every day and I can honestly say I've still been having a ton of fun...  exhuasted, yet.  Running on fumes, yes.  But happy?  Big fat YES. 

Ever sit down and think that things are just wrong?  Maybe not.  Sometimes I honestly think that my life is completely ironic...  laughable almost, the combination of things I am and have chosen to be.  And yet I wouldn't (and couldn't) go about it any other way.  It'll take too long to explain this concept here, but let me tell you, sometimes I just laugh at the absurdity of it.  Humor is saving in itself...  God must have a good sense of humor...  just as He has comforted through peace and fortitude, He has saved through laughter... 

In any case, I do believe I am addicted to hope.  It is the impulse that keeps me going...  no matter how small; perhaps precisely when it is small.  Foolishness, often, it is.  The small hope that even in the deepest well of Impossibility, there is a chance to hear a splash...  the chance that flailing in the wind does more than just exhaust me, the chance that somewhere, somehow, at some point in life, the seeds that I might plant in the rough ground of High School will make some small difference in their lives.  Even if it is tiny.  I will bear it all just for the chance that it will happen.  Just for the possibility. 

And I can't stop.  Every now and again, there is a glimmer of hope and it thrills my soul.  This in itself seems enough for me.  Enough for me to throw off the covers, get down on my knees, and rise with my fist in the air, ready to do it all over again...  just for this poor salary of hope...  (poor, yet making many (hopefully) rich: 2 Corinthians 6:10.)  So I work...  for a future I will perhaps never see...  for the hope in a future that I want to see... 

It's sick, I tell you.  I confess this every day. 

But I hope.  Hope in the very fact that there is an unknown, hope in the fact that there is a possibility for change, for growth, for a shift in direction, and for a new day.  People are capable of great change, and I believe that they are owed this chance.  Every day.  God may be able to see the potential, but I am able to keep myself from stifling them from reaching it, even if I can't see it. 

I am completely bought in to the idea that with each new day comes hope, and with hope comes possibilities...  possibilities of change, of growth, and of a closer walk with Him.  And this is Christ in His beauty: the desire of all nations, the bearer of hope, the agent of change...  I believe that even in Heaven there will be hope for tomorrow...  a newer and brighter and even clearer revelation of Him who has given all so that we might have all... hope for the completion that I never see here on this blue planet... 

So why all this (albeit limited) baring of the soul?  Hope.  Hope that in the sharing of stories, experiences, and knowledge, there can be the propagation of hope as well. 

The book of 2 Corinthians has been an anchor for me lately.  The joy flashing through fortitude and iron-clad determination resounds well with me.  And so it is...  joy and love mixed into this battleground of School Valley.  And so I am.  "Troubled on every side, yet not distressed.  Perplexed, but not in despair.  Persecuted, but not forsaken. Cast down, but not destroyed.... Though the outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day...  while we look not at the things that are seen, but the things that are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal."  

Fasting today.  One of those days when the body just begs for it...  it feels good.  My mind feels clearer and I am at peace.  Perhaps it's because it's a bounce off the indigestion I had last night (I am NEVER going back to that restaurant again.)  Got some sleep under my belt, and a whole lot of work on my desk.  I thought I'd take a little breather and pound out a long overdue entry before going back to work. 

At this point, I'm living day to day.  I don't like this "survival mode" I've somehow kicked myself into, but it's the only way I'm getting through right now.  I looked back to some things I created in the beginning of the year and I got a small vision of how I saw things back then.  With a glimpse of the future...  a glimpse of how I wanted things to be, and how I wanted to get there.  With much of that work done however, here I am, working out the workings... 

In any case, I am reading once again about the life of Jesus and going through the gospels.  He fascinates and entrances me.  This Man who walked this earth and bids us follow Him.  He finds us in the dens and holes of this world and offers us a better Home.  He pulls us out and does not deflect our blows when we in confusion and distress lash out at Him.  He is patient with our constant backward glances, steady and consistent in His love in a world where nothing is ever stable or consistent... 

He is the epitome of everything incomprehensible.  He is the Only One.  His name is Impossible.  Simply because everything He stands for is something that would normally make me shake my head and say, "that is crazy."  Or at least improbable.  He is the exception to every human rule...  the one voice rising above all others, unique and thrilling, saying Yes, it is possible...  even my own voice, silenced in the promise of it... 

He's what keeps me going.  He is indeed my hope and joy.  It is because He made all things possible that anything is possible for me...  and when I consider the works of His hands, and all that He has gone through and is currently going through...  I am humbled.  Who am I to beat against the wind? 

Once in a while, I have a roll call I've created for myself.  I say, "Who's going to stop complaining?!!"  and I try to be as eager as possible to raise my hand high up in the air: "It's me!!  Me!!  Pick me!!" 

Anybody else?