Incomprehensibly Fabulous

I keep thinking that I will have time to stop and read and write and think, and then something pops up and away I dash to pick up another task or forgotten thread. What has been going on? Adventures, both grueling and filled with derring-do and swashing of many buckles (or whatever).

Sunday, I put a book back inside its cover and then made an excruciatingly detailed slideshow about it. It was for school, but let me tell you--it was awesome. Check out the slideshow and feel free to skip the boring parts.

Tuesday I attended a workshop on book repair. My awesome friend Cherie was able to get permission for me to tag along with media assistants from her school district. I enjoyed the chance to see how other people handle common and uncommon repairs. The most exciting part, though, was discovering that while I was sitting in the car in the parking lot, listening to sirens and watching the rain slashing down onto my windshield, all the employees of the library were hiding out in their storm zone because a tornado had touched down somewhere in the county.

Wednesday I wrote to my advisor about a horrible class I have this semester. It has made me cry and has made me think about quitting twice, but I am committed and do not fear, my dumplings, for I shall win.

Thursday was a lousy day...the kids were all just nutty and I felt like I was slipping a little...like I wasn't quite "on," you know. My work is piling up at work and I cannot seem to get ahead. And then I ended up eating by myself in the gym because my friend the gym teacher wasn't there, only I didn't know she was out for the day. And by the time I figured it out, I wasn't going to pack up my lunch and take it somewhere else. So I hung out in the deserted gym office and checked out her memorabilia.

Thursday night, though, I got to support my school by reading books at the spirit night at Chick-fil-A. I love reading stories. It's one of my favorite things ever. Why can't it pay worth beans?

Which brings me to today, in which I had several really good teaching moments. I felt like I was on top of things today--totally helped by Chris leaving later so I could leave a bit earlier this morning and get a jump on the day. He is so awesome. Anyway, my favorite thing today was a student who is sweet, but usually not into our activities. He totally took a writing prompt and ran with it. I was so thrilled! It was just a few sentences, but I felt as though lightning struck and the story stuck and I got to be there watching. I hope he'll get to have lots more moments like that.

I need to tell you about my workplace.

Sometimes, my job is a pain. Sometimes, it's stressful. Sometimes, I'm tired and cranky. But there is one thing that I have learned this year: I work with some of the most amazing people I know.

Now, what's making me think about this tonight is that this afternoon I got to attend two different school-related events. I look at the teachers who are involved, and I feel better because of knowing them. I see them going out and making a difference in the lives of kids every day. And being around that makes me want to go out and do the same. Being able to think, "Oh, I work with that teacher," makes me stand straighter, like when you play sixth chair in the orchestra but the applause is for the whole group, you included.

I work with people who care deeply about kids, about each other, about education. I work with people who donate money and donate time. I work with people who run marathons, who hug kindergarteners, who raise money for good causes, who support one another with hugs and words and money and baked goods.

I sit amidst blessings I can't even count--but the greatest blessing that God has given me is to place me among people who are doing good things, great things. From my husband to my children to my church to my school to my friends, I know the most amazing people--people whose beauty flows in the lives they are changing with the work of their hands and hearts.

I think we've reviewed--many times--the fact that I am not a gardener by nature. I'm too impatient, and fickle and--let's face it--find nothing exciting about getting my hands dirty. And though I rather wish I did enjoy it, as it seems such a responsible thing to do, I've made peace with the fact that one person can't do everything and stick to my passionate pursuit of all things involving sitting down and books.

But that doesn't mean that the imminent approach of spring leaves my heart unturned. Spring, while not my favorite season, is one of the top four. Much like fall, it's a turning season, a time of transition and anticipation. Anything could happen, surely, with the scent of spring on the breeze!

And while others pore over seed catalogs that arrive in the mail, or plan their flowerbeds and vegetable rows, I'm thinking about the sermon that my husband gave on Sabbath. In a by-the-way fashion, he mentioned that we are all responsible for building and for planting seeds, and that those things require stepping out on faith. If I put a seed in the ground, I want to run out there every day and see whether it's growing, much the same way that Chris hovers over his beloved sassafrass tree all spring long, nurturing it, tending it, and threatening the neighborhood rabbits.

But seeds take their own time. Some germinate in a week, some take much longer. And although it's not obvious to my eye, once that seed is in the ground, there is change happening. There is action and growth. But it will not be revealed to me until it is the right time.

I am a creature that likes definition and control. I like to know what's happening, why, who's involved, and what my responsibility is. When I put forth effort, I want results--now! I want immediate feedback! And yet, that is not what I am called to do.

Whether it is at home--with my own sons--or at work with others' children, I am only planting seeds. I don't know which will blossom and grow and which will remain dormant for perhaps a lifetime. I don't know which seeds will be a lasting legacy--what will my children, for example, rememenr? Will it be my special recipe for swiss steak? Will it be the family trips? Will it be talking while grocery shopping? Will it be hugs? Reminders? Monologues? The pattern of the fabric on the sofa? The hundreds of books? The weekly trips to church and then to grandma's house?

Will the students at school remember that I smiled a lot? That my voice was high and breathy? That I wore billowing skirts and big earrings? That I found them a book that they fell in love with? That I knew where to find information on frogs? That I was a foe (or a friend) on the "underground railroad" that ran through our school? Will the seeds of care and concern and love of literature that I am planting come to fruition someday?

I don't know, any more than I could have foreseen, last March, that I would be working at the school this year. The seeds I planted over the years brought forth a harvest I could not have expected. And I am trying to remember that, right now, in the thick of my worries about school and work, that I am still responsible for planting, and that a harvest will someday happen. I can't see the growth fully now. I may not see it for years and years. But there is planting, every day that I am alive and move throughout the actions of life. I can't choose what I will harvest--but I step out in faith that God is a faithful gardener, so much more conscientous than I.