There's been an invasion.
An outsider has infiltrated the Jessica+MAA ranks, and is so widespread, there's no removing it. This outsider once was welcome, even a close ally. But now, it comes unbidden, a malignant, metastasizing adulterant.
Hunker down for the invasion of normalcy.
Alarm clock. Snooze. Wake up again with a start. Shower. Toast with Jif (if I'm lucky). Brush teeth. Staff worship. Library. Lunch. Lab. PE. Supper. Tutor. Brush teeth. Bed.
Lather, rinse, and repeat.
Again.
Repeat.
D.S. al Fine.
Yawn.
I look through my pictures from when I first arrived, and see pictures of EVERYTHING; the ground, the plants, the slugs, the buildings, the trees, the leaves, the sky, shadows, classrooms . . . everything. Now, I scarcely notice the grass unless it's time for a trim. This is real life now. It's no longer a vacation, or a hiatus, or even an adventure. It's just life.
What am I to write about? The same ol' same ol' humdrum routine? The routine I wished and hoped and prayed for at the beginning of the year? Don't misunderstand; I'm glad to have routine. I'm glad to know what to expect each day. But with routine comes boredom and responsibility. And I don't really feel like being responsible.
As long as we're talking about feelings, here are some more I don't have: I don't feel like I'm making an impact. I don't feel like what I'm doing has lasting value. I don't feel like I'm helping.
I know all these things are true; I just don't feel them.
The newness has worn off, the shine has tarnished. Now it's time to break out the fix-it glue and polishing cloth. It's like the dust-collecting Christmas toy in April; it's still there, it's still fun, but it doesn't make your eyes sparkle as much. If you dust it off and play with it, you quickly remember how fun it is, but the dust is so unsightly, and you don't want to get dirty, and, and . . .
It's life. It's still beautiful, it's still wonderful, it's still great.
But I still forget.
But still, I have my Right Hand Man.
"For I am the LORD your God
who takes hold of your right hand
and says to you, Do not fear;
I will help you." (Is. 41:13)
I don't have to feel like I'm making an impact. I don't have to feel like what I'm doing has lasting value. I don't have to feel like I'm helping.
I just have to hold on to Dad's hand.
We're crossing the street. We've made it across six of ten lanes of traffic. The matatus and buses are whooshing by, and I'm a little unnerved. He looks down at me with a smile, gives my hand a little squeeze, and takes a step.
I can do everything; nothing is impossible; I can do all things . . .
I just have to hold on to Dad's hand.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few things outside of the normal:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thanks all for your encouragement and making home a place worth missing.
Keep holding on to Dad's hand.
An outsider has infiltrated the Jessica+MAA ranks, and is so widespread, there's no removing it. This outsider once was welcome, even a close ally. But now, it comes unbidden, a malignant, metastasizing adulterant.
Hunker down for the invasion of normalcy.
Alarm clock. Snooze. Wake up again with a start. Shower. Toast with Jif (if I'm lucky). Brush teeth. Staff worship. Library. Lunch. Lab. PE. Supper. Tutor. Brush teeth. Bed.
Lather, rinse, and repeat.
Again.
Repeat.
D.S. al Fine.
Yawn.
I look through my pictures from when I first arrived, and see pictures of EVERYTHING; the ground, the plants, the slugs, the buildings, the trees, the leaves, the sky, shadows, classrooms . . . everything. Now, I scarcely notice the grass unless it's time for a trim. This is real life now. It's no longer a vacation, or a hiatus, or even an adventure. It's just life.What am I to write about? The same ol' same ol' humdrum routine? The routine I wished and hoped and prayed for at the beginning of the year? Don't misunderstand; I'm glad to have routine. I'm glad to know what to expect each day. But with routine comes boredom and responsibility. And I don't really feel like being responsible.
 |
| My early pictures... Yep. Holes in the ground. |
As long as we're talking about feelings, here are some more I don't have: I don't feel like I'm making an impact. I don't feel like what I'm doing has lasting value. I don't feel like I'm helping.
I know all these things are true; I just don't feel them.
The newness has worn off, the shine has tarnished. Now it's time to break out the fix-it glue and polishing cloth. It's like the dust-collecting Christmas toy in April; it's still there, it's still fun, but it doesn't make your eyes sparkle as much. If you dust it off and play with it, you quickly remember how fun it is, but the dust is so unsightly, and you don't want to get dirty, and, and . . .
It's life. It's still beautiful, it's still wonderful, it's still great.
But I still forget.
But still, I have my Right Hand Man.
"For I am the LORD your God
who takes hold of your right hand
and says to you, Do not fear;
I will help you." (Is. 41:13)
I don't have to feel like I'm making an impact. I don't have to feel like what I'm doing has lasting value. I don't have to feel like I'm helping.
I just have to hold on to Dad's hand.
We're crossing the street. We've made it across six of ten lanes of traffic. The matatus and buses are whooshing by, and I'm a little unnerved. He looks down at me with a smile, gives my hand a little squeeze, and takes a step.
I can do everything; nothing is impossible; I can do all things . . .
I just have to hold on to Dad's hand.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few things outside of the normal:
- The PACKERS! They won. :D I watched the whole game on my computer (starting at 2a) while Joe Buck cut in and out with the commentary. By the time the clock ran out and the confetti fell, it was time for breakfast (6:20a). The students couldn't figure out why I was all decked out in matching green & gold; I told them my team had won the world championship. "Of what? Basketball?" Haha. My new Packer jersey was sported all day Monday.
- Hiking! We've been hiking each Sunday this month in preparation for our climb of the 2nd-highest mountain in Africa: Mt. Kenya. I'm relishing the chance to FINALLY use my new backpack purchased in May. I'm also brainwashing my legs into thinking this burning, aching work is fun.
- I'm loving the students. Now, if we could only do away with "school". . .
- I've revamped the lab handouts so that the students have to write up a more standard (and more intensive) lab report. The last question each week now asks how God was visible in the lab. Some of the answers could be straight out of any EGW book; they're so good, I've been posting them on my blog for you to read, too.
- Though I'm loving it here, I'm extremely excited about June. However, once July rolls around, I'll probably experience the same old-Christmas-toy feelings. Oh, well.
- The PACKERS! 'Nuff said.
 |
| One of my lovable students, Bliss |
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thanks all for your encouragement and making home a place worth missing.
Keep holding on to Dad's hand.
2 comments:
The thing about the world today is that everything is based on how you feel. But, like you said, it doesn't always matter how we feel. God is there even when we don't feel him. Thanks for the reminder :)
Apparently this time it was your turn to post the blog I couldn't seem to put into words.
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