Silence. For months now, I've been silent in the blogging world. Many of those days were fulfilling, energy enriching days. I love teaching. I'm passionate about kids, and community, and making the classroom a place where life learning, not just book learning, takes place. I get jazzed up when my students ask hard questions that require deep thinking and processing. But like everyone else, I'm only human. The brown, snowless winter, the little quirks and annoyances of 11 year olds, the nagging desire for change in some way but no outlet for change to take place, the endless weeks of inner ear problems, and the February blues had all taken their toll on me. The stress of it all culminated over the weekend and took me out with one giant, debilitating migraine. So first I had my say with God: "I would be so much happier if it would snow so I could enjoy winter." And "I know they're good kids, but they can't seem to settle down in the classroom." And on and on. I tried to bargain with God -like if He would just fix these things then I would be back to my normal, optimistic self. So I tried bargaining, all the while I had this gut feeling: GRACE. "My grace is sufficient for you." Wait, what was that, God? Your grace is sufficient for me? I don't think you understand. Have you looked at all these circumstances outside my control?
I've been known to learn some lessons the hard way. Here I was in my own selfishness, self-pity, and pride, miserable because I had forgotten that EVERY SINGLE DAY I wake up in endless, boundless, limitless grace. Grace that I don't deserve. It doesn't matter if I'm physically unwell or if my students are off the chart unproductive. I STILL LIVE IN THE BEAUTY OF GRACE. I don't know about you, but I find that extremely humbling.
I spent a lot of God and Britta time over the weekend - I would say I poured out my heart, confessed the most selfish of my desires, laid them at His feet. And after a very difficult couple of days, and a sick day from teaching, I walked into a classroom Tuesday morning, where I was humbled all the more. This time I was humbled by my own students. Because for weeks while I was wallowing in my own self-pity, they were still rooting for me. They didn't quit the team. Yep, humbled is probably an understatement.
And there it is: grace. For the moments when I need it the most: G-R-A-C-E.
