Still, Small Voice

Last night I stayed with my cousin at my aunt and uncle's house, who were both out of town. 16-year-old Maggie and I caught up on my aunt and uncle's bed; then she went off to start her homework at 10pm, and I snuggled under the covers for sleeping.

Normally, in my basement apartment, I don't get to hear the sound of rain on the roof. Last night however, that rhythmic hum was what put me to sleep. This morning, likewise, the pounding of the rain was what pulled me out of dreams (incidentally, a very nice one about a hunky South-American man named Eduardo), and into waking.

It is so hard to get up when it is still dark, and the covers are heavy and warm, and you can hear the sound of driving rain against the windows.

Later that morning I got back under the covers, propped up against pillows, with a mug of hot coffee to pray.

As I ran through thanks and requests, I thought of the time. Was I going to be late? How do I get to school from here? What do I still need to do? What about [this person]? What about [this person]? What about my future, God? How long, God?

And suddenly, there it was--

Some people call this a storm.
I say, I'm preparing good things.

I paused. But Lord, I thought... Is so MUCH rain necessary? It's supposed to rain all week.

Sometimes that's what it takes.

(And then, after feeling anxious--)

Just listen to the sound of the rain.

So I listened to that darkling music; that rhythmic drumming; the rush of the gusting wind; the taps of branches against the window.

I thought to myself: enjoy THIS moment for what it offers.

Rest in me.

Soldier

It's 7:00AM, and I'm at my desk. Class will start in 45 minutes.

I was still here, less than twelve hours ago. I was here for the twelve hours before that. When I finally DID leave, I went home, and prepared for Friday's class, packed for the retreat, and finally fell into bed around 10:15PM. I had frantic, nerve-wracking dreams all night, and when my alarm finally sounded at 4:45AM, I woke with a jolt and a gasp. I could barely keep my eyes open on my drive to work.

It's not a good sign when you imagine getting into a car wreck and feel some relief, thinking, "At least then, I could take the day off..."

And it's only Wednesday.

Why this sudden terror and exhaustion? Why this seizure of anxiety after two solid days of teaching? Is this the devil?

I am dreading 6th period. I'm pretty sure they were largely featured in the terrible dreams.

Two thoughts, I'm finding comfort in. One, is that I know that, SOMEHOW, I will make it to the end of the day. 3:00PM will come. And bedtime-- glorious, blissful bedtime will come after that. I might even get to sleep in until, like, 7:00 tomorrow because the kids won't show up at the retreat center until later. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed with how much I have to do, it's been a comforting thing to look at the final deadline and say, "SOMEHOW it will all get done. I don't know how, but it will." And it always has. And it will today. I will make it to 3:00PM, and by the time I do, I will have taught five high-school English classes.

Second: this is a little childish, but that is sometimes a pattern with me. And whenever I'm feeling especially knotted up with nerves, it's tremendously helpful to find myself in a moment of silliness. I am picturing myself as a solider. This morning, I am in camo gear, lying on my belly in a trench after a fitful night of sleep. I'm watching the sun rise through a barbed wire coil, and thinking that it's beautiful, and thinking that I need to GEAR UP for the battle today. I've got mud on my face because, word: I am hard core. I can do this. I have weapons. And I can take on 6th period. And besides, there are other hard core soldiers fighting with me.

(Cue bloggies to PRAY.)

Anyway. I will make it. I will survive. This is just teaching! Why am I so freaked out? I know the ending to the story: God wins. All I have to do is love others, and love Him in the meantime. He'll take care of the rest.

Roger that.