Home » Rekindled joy

Rekindled joy

It has been a quite a day, quite a week.  Quite a month.  I wonder how I made it this far, and yet what gives me the right to think that life is any more than this, or any less.  For the past two months, I put myself in work-a-holic mode.  I have put in long days preparing for the school year, put in even longer evenings at the school and at home, preparing for the school day ahead.  I am a teacher, yet the mother in me is always first.  I rise before the sun, before my children see the light of day, to bathe, make beds and ready myself for the day ahead.  My daughter asks me, “Mommy, why don’t you ever shower?”  I tell her that I do, she just never sees my hair wet because she is still asleep.

As night falls on another Thursday late in September, I move through the house following a trail of Easter Bunnies.  It is autumn, and Easter is a distant promise.  No matter.  My daughter was tucked in tonight wearing pink bunny ears, clutching two bunnies which she could not part with.  I try to hide frustration as I coax this little one to sleep.  I paint another daughter’s chest with a thick layer of Vapor rub; she is struggling to fall asleep with her newly acquired head cold.  I kiss my son on the forehead, and turn out the lights.  It is tempting to tune out the mind right now.  Check out to duty and plug in to mindless entertainment.  It is a drug that never satisfies.

My mother asks me if I have been writing lately, and I say no.  I have no excuses, it has just not been a priority.  Neither has prayer.  Or my Bible.  I have to be honest.  I feel like God is an acquaintance these days, and I holler a quick hello as I pass Him in the hall.

The other night, I complained to a friend that I was struggling with a cold.  I’m taking lots of vitamins, I say self-righteously, as I list them off to her.  Of course, the most important thing is prayer, she says with a knowing smile, as if to say, you wouldn’t think to start or finish your day any other way, now would you?  Would I pray? Would I dare not to?

I have tried to pray in the morning, but my mind wanders.  I pray with the children at meal time, but it sounds trite.  I model prayer at bed time, but even tonight I found myself thinking, is it really worth the bother?

Did I really think that?

I tell my students on a daily basis how important food is to their body.  I encourage healthy eating.  I reiterate at meal time to these little ones that food is fuel.  Yet, prayer and God’s words via the Bible are my fuel, and I am running on empty, my tank is dry.  I need you, Lord.  I need to talk to you in ways that are not contrived.

God, I am so weak and tired.  You promise to be my strength.  I am unable to be all things to all people.  You are able to do immeasureably more than all I ask or imagine, according to Your power that is at work within us. (Ephesians 3:20, Zondervan NIV Study Bible)   I am empty, fill my cup, Lord.

I know that my thoughts are not hidden from You, and for that, I feel relief.  How refreshing to know that I do not need to pretend with You, God.

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.  You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.  You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.  Before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely, O Lord.  You hem me in- behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. (Psalm 139: 1-6, Zondervan NIV Study Bible)  These words are familiar, yet they sound new and original as I read them tonight.  I peel away the layers that hide me from view, for it is all a mirage.  Nothing is hidden from God.  Where can I go from your Spirit?  Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me,  your right hand will hold me fast. (Psalm 139: 7-10, Zondervan NIV Study Bible)  I claim these verses as I read them, for to do otherwise would be a sacrilege.  God is speaking, and I am standing on holy ground.

I know that I will still feel tired when I finish writing tonight.  There is laundry waiting to be folded in the drier.  I never touched my school work tonight.  My neck has a kink in it; I turn to release the tension.  And yet, I know that with calm assurance that life is worth the living, and I can face tomorrow.    It is no longer I who lives, but Christ who lives in me.(Galatians 2: 20, Zondervan NIV Study Bible)   I must believe this!  It is the Word of God.  In Him we live and move and have our being. (Acts 17:28, Zondervan NIV Study Bible)  We seek His face, and He does not hide from us. (Acts 17:27, Zondervan NIV Study Bible)  I can live and breathe and be the one I was designed to be, in spite of my surroundings and the circumstances in which I live.

I need You God, and I ask humbly for forgiveness for thinking I could do any less than totally rely on You.

It is quiet in this house.  My children sleep deeply.  Although they may not voice it, they have the understanding and knowledge that they are loved and protected.  They know when they rise at dawn there will be food on the table and there will be enough to go around.  My children sleep deeply.

And so must I…..

And so must I.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Rekindled joy

  1. I read your ‘teacher down the hallway’ first, before this. Something strikes. What can be done, we do. The time it takes to do it determines to some extent how much we do. But time is the commodity we run short of. Everything becomes a rush. Even the caring of our children. And prayer. And everything pretty much.
    I teach too and I often feel the children in school get the best of me. That there’s not much left in the way of patience when I come home. I’ve tried in the past to do so much for school and still be there for my own. But I recognised I was doing too much for school when I chased one of my own kids from standing on papers strewn across the floor. A long time ago now.
    Balance became imperative. For me and for my own kids. School now gets what I can give within the time constraints. If I’m giving my best when I’m there then I have a right to switch off from it when I’m home. Then I get to be mum. And wife. And writer too. There is an entitlement to every part.
    Sorry, this sounds like a lecture. I don’t mean it to. Just that, in my young teaching and young family days, I found it difficult to strike a balance. And time ran away from me.
    I’m much more laid back now. And things probably get neglected like certain aspects of housework. And some of the stuff I may previously have done for school. In fact, there’s no probably about it. I know things get neglected. But they’re trivial things compared to having time to enjoy something of the time we have available with our children.
    My children are older now and I do regret some of the time I lost with them when they were young because I tried to do so much.
    ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference’ became something of a mantra.
    Your teacher down the hallway post reminds me of what matters. In school. And in life. Doing the best we can by being us while taking the time to embrace all we need.

    A priest once told me when I was moaning about the ‘burden’ of motherhood to let some of the worries go. ‘Picnic on the floor’ was about the sum of it. ‘Your kids will remember that. Not how much housework you did.’ Puts me in mind of the advice to the young teacher.
    Maybe you have a better balance than I ever did. It took me some time to work it out.

    I’ve enjoyed your reflections here. And hope you don’t mind me going on so much. I always kind of do. 😉 Blessings on you and your family. And the school children in your care. x

  2. I just found your blog via Facebook. I want to say thank you for writing. I’m going to be following your blog from now on. Your teaching philosophy matches mine (I’m one year away from my teaching credential), and your reminders to rely on God, to love above all, and to maintain joy in each and every day are so very much what I need to hear and do. Bless you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s