the fact that i put that sub-conscious pressure on myself to be brilliant, insightful, and witty, shows me why i haven't written a word, even though i've been teaching for a solid eight weeks. i do that all the time. i want to be a good teacher. i want to measure up to the miracle that God has laid before me...but that's why it's a miracle, right? because i will never measure up to it, yet it's here just the same. ah...pressure off. (yes, it's often that easy for me...i just need a quick minute to jot down my thoughts and perspective creeps in and frees me from worry and strife over minor things that are often beyond my control.)
i think i have the instincts to be a good teacher. when you are in theatre, or work with people, you begin to observe your surroundings, the way people behave compared to how they really feel, and the ripple effect that often determines a chain of events that end far from where the intentions of those involved began. through those observations i have learned a lot. i have seen what works, and often what does not, and i've seen things work out for many people taking very different paths to the same end. it's all subjective.
i often find myself thinking of writing a blog when i am confident, strong, and happy. i often find myself actually sitting down to write when i am feeling apprehensive, pensive, doubtful, and slightly melancholy. the only reason i've found a pocket of time to write today is because my car is broken and the only other option is to clean, organize, or grade about a hundred papers for semester grades, or try to get out of the rut i find myself in with the middle school play that goes up in two weeks.
i find myself wrestling today. i can't figure out who my opponent is, and i recognize i'm secretly looking forward to the hand to hand combat. i appreciate my relationship with God...He's not afraid to wrestle with me. He's not afraid to show me exactly where i stand in the whole scheme of things. He's not afraid to be who He is, no matter what I believe to be true about Him. He's not afraid to stand before me in all His power and cry with me when i do not understand or, perhaps, begin to understand all too well.
why do i not write more often? why do i allow the television, crappy food, fear, and mindless tasks to steal the best of me when times get tough? it IS possible for me to organize my time and accomplish those things that will help me get closer to the person i want to be...it is the fear of knowing it is possible that often debilitates me. it is not failure that i fear...it is accomplishment, acclamation, the after...the after of success...what comes next? well...if i continue to allow mediocrity to define my effort, then i will never find out. i get tired, often mentally and physically, to the point where i have sometimes closed my classroom door, shut off the light, and curled up with my coat on the floor behind my desk and closed my eyes, because i do not know what else to do.
the more i succeed...the more i accomplish...the more awards i receive...the more uncomfortable i feel. it's not a lack of understanding or appreciation...quite the opposite, in fact. the older i get, and the closer i get to who i want to be...the less things i'm finding to complain about. for some reason that also makes me uncomfortable. you know, if i was reaching out to others and giving, like i should be, i do not think i would be so uncomfortable with the blessings God has bestowed upon me. it is my selfishness that is causing some discomfort lately. my need for "things", my desire to be accepted, invited, and applauded by every person around me, and my insatiable appetite for the "quick fix" or perfect cheeseburger:) have subconsciously become priorities.
how do i always get here? it is often when things are good that i begin to slip. it is often when i am uncomfortable that i begin to sabotage myself slowly by subconsciously changing my priorities. it is often after i cannot even stand being with myself that i figure out what's happened, and sit down in a moment like this to wipe the slate clean and start over. the slate can never truly be wiped clean, though, can it? do we really want to wipe it clean, or is it better if a little trace of every choice, season, conversation, and milestone are present as we continue to write our stories?
i use the chalkboard at school every day. often, after i erase the words from the day before and begin to write material for a new day, the residue from yesterday is still readable up close. we can never erase what has happened. many christians would disagree...but the truth is the consequences, how we have affected others, and our own memory often leave a slight remnant of who we were in the writings of who we are, and cannot be ignored when determining who we want to be. i have learned to love that old, dusty chalkboard.
No comments:
Post a Comment