I find it interesting that I'm writing again in a wee morning hour--but it simply goes to prove that these are the only moments I have to myself--to get away and think, to take a break from the loads of work I know I need to be accomplishing. But what is the line between truly working my hardest and killing myself for something almost unobtainable--in sacrifice of genuine friendships? This, my loves, bears a dilemma. I truly thought I could find some sort of balance between school work and fulfilling my social persona, but then I realize I'm lacking sleep and building tension all the while. And that comes down to the beginnings of procrastination and lack of wisdom in planning my not-so-abundant amounts of time each day.
Dad told me a week or so ago to memorize the Serenity Prayer:
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.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.
Fortunately, I have it up on my wall next to my desk, and my eyes glance on it (or perhaps right through it) on an almost daily basis. But do the things I know I must realize truly penetrate the workings of my mind?
Anyway, I did indeed begin teaching practicum last Wednesday. And the 9.5029803 (or whatever) hours I've spent so far in Mrs. Bailey's English II classes have been wonderful. I can't say exactly that I feel I've been prepared by the Education department of Campbell, but I can say that for some reason, the Lord has led me here. And when I was finally able to gather a small group of 10th grade students and discuss a few chapters in a novel the other day, it all clicked. I thought to myself, "I can actually do this. All this time I could do nothing but doubt myself, my abilities, degrade my intelligence...and this is...the culmination of everything I've been working towards..." And...to be vainfully honest, I think I'm gonna be dang good at it. And so I strive on...in learning, in studying, lesson planning, papering...this is the life of a future English teacher. Even if most of her students are taller than her.
Sorry that my writing is so stream-of-consciousness. But then again, so is my brain, so it only makes sense.
I simply feel I am still missing something. Perhaps I feel a longing for someone to share everything with. I'm not looking for a sappy response or a feeling of sorrow, I just desire for someone to truly know me. And for that not to scare anyone. I want to grow up, but I don't know how. And yet, I want to stay locked in the corners of the bookstore in my mind: all these stories I've studied, all these tears I've cried empathizing for others...where is my love story? As for me now, it's on hold, for I will "not stir up or awaken love until it pleases" (Song of Sol. 2:7, 3:5, 8:4). Why do I feel so far removed from what I thought everything would be when I was twenty-one years old? But I'm not old. And I'm full of life.
