A few weeks ago I wrote about dropping anchor in the goodness of God. This continues to be a reoccurring theme, and a powerful one, in my life. It's what I am thinking about, despite the mess of this week. Despite things that are chronic or disappointing or haven't gone away for a long, long time.
It's been the kind of week where there is rush hour, conversations with car mechanics, bills to pay, meetings to attend, grades to enter, lots of grading that still isn't done, calming students, unexpected conversations. And maybe even a mild panic attack. Very unusual in my life. Very. It gives me perspective for those people who say this is not unusual at all.
I also witnessed this big thing in every 8th grader's experience with U.S. History....this week they recited the presidents to me in the hallway. It's intense. I force myself to stare at the list while they wait and think. To live in the silence and still smile a little. To help them along with their method, not my own. It's a lot to manage for 75 people. It's a lot of reading people and making space for them. There are about 15 students left today. Then we are done.Breathe in, breathe out.
But dropping anchor is such a steadying thing to do. I imagine both the surfacey way we all sometimes live, and the connection to choosing to put your hope in where the anchor lands, and both things remind me that God is everywhere and he is in control.
I discovered this week while driving that I often struggle to find firm connection to the thought that God does know our futures, and it will be ok. People say that when you are in the muck of life, and they want you to know that the future isn't so scary. But sometimes, even with those well-meaning comments, it is scary. And I don't leave with a breath of fresh air in my lungs, ready to conquer everything at all.
I believe Jesus didn't intended for us to conquer things without him. And as time goes by, I am more and more convinced that these little slips of time in which we live are some of the most brilliantly crafted parts of our humanity. Little by little, moment by moment, despite our tempestuous hearts. While driving, I heard lyrics to a song that talked about our futures being in God's memory. And somehow, the language of that thought made sense.
It's mostly synonymous to the thing everyone else always says for comfort about God knowing the future. But for me, this stuck. I like thinking that my future is in God's memory. It puts me in my place with the smallness of my life and the grandeur of God, and it doesn't scare me. What's more, I tend to (good, bad or in between) have a detailed memory of my own life. So it also reminds me that God is not forgetting me.
This week was the kind of week where a good many things happened, and despite being sort of a mess inside, things were steady. God is near. I know a great many people who are wonderful. I had a plan, and things were carried out. Just because things are intense doesn't mean they're not worth it. What it does mean is that you have to go away and take care of yourself. And sometimes this week it meant coffee at either end of the day and time in my pajamas near my Christmas tree.
While staring at my tree this morning and the Nativity scene next to it, the song I heard in my mind was 'Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus'. Believe me, that one is buried deep. It's not the on the list of Top 25 that come to mind most often. But I listened to it this morning, and it was confounding and Christmasy and real. Advent is near. I am ready for it.
And then I get past the small things of our modern rush, and remember again the people in my life. The people really make life interesting and wonderful. I have a really interesting mechanic...someone who tends to shoot the breeze and explain an interesting life without the frills of arrogance at all. My dad made me laugh really hard last night on the phone. When I came back from a conference (my rush hour destination on Wednesday), I was glad to see students. We forge some strong bonds with them in the course of the year. Sometimes that bond involves getting the stink eye....they don't like my choices. (Well, sometimes I don't like theirs.) But it's something that makes sense to me, and it was good to come back to them yesterday.
At said job, I know a lot of good people. And then there are the friends from far away....the latitudes and longitudes of distance in my life. People like Allison in Connecticut, and the twins in St. Louis Park calling out of nowhere at the best possible moment. My cousin in Iowa, my mom and dad in Northfield, Jenna, decorating her apartment in Sioux Falls. I saw that happen this week on Skype. A phone call from Molly, my childhood friend, and a phone message from Briana that explains the entire tone of the week in a few short words. Only a freshman roommate leaves a message like she did. Thank you, God, for Briana and Nelson Hall and 2003.
This is where lots of good life is....knowing the stories of these friends. Always, always, I am grateful.
And then there are the memories of a life that I miss. Today is Kari's birthday, and she would have been 27, and she is not here with us. I have been thinking of her. I have been thinking of her family. I have been wondering about her baby and the 2 year olds I know who remind me of what it would be to see Kari and John's.
I wondered this week if we would have celebrated her birthday with a party if she were here. I think we would have...probably out to eat somewhere or a night in with a movie and a wine she liked. Popcorn on the stove. Forgetting the movie and talking all night instead. Vowing to watch it another time.
There is sadness in me today because I wish we could experience the 27th year together. And then, beyond the still small moment of now, there is this awareness that I knew someone very wonderful and I'm celebrating her life today because she has added so much to mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment