March Air

It's been a while since I've posted . . . nearly 6 months, to date. I guess a few things have changed: I graduated from the ICCD program - finished my Master's Degree. And I met a man.

Those feel like pretty significant land marks, but most in my life has still stayed very much the same. I wonder if life is in some ways like my students' semester grades . . . in the beginning, it fluctuates widely from an A to an F with a single assignment. Towards the end of the semester, little will move the grade point average more than a tenth of a percentage. Things seem to stabilize over time quite a bit.

My coarse is set on You, Jesus - but I don't call that safety. I want to be with You - to serve You recklessly. I want to pursue You and love You and obey You. What does that mean?

I was running today for the first time after breaking my leg in the beginning of January during my 3rd skiing adventure (ever). My PT told me to take it slow - a minute on, four minutes off. Still, I found myself sliding so freely back into that passion for the beat of the foot, the pulse of the heart, the rhythm of the breath. I ached for the taste of salt on my upper lip and the euphoric bliss of legs that feel like they'll never tire.

Teaching has felt quite oppressive lately. Is it me or the students or the dreary classroom that makes me feel like a cat in a box? Lord, teach my heart to rejoice in You - in the community You've given me, in the good work You've put before me, in the opportunities You've entrusted to me, in the ways You're equipping me. Help me to be patient, to let go of control, to trust.

It's been a beautiful February - cherry blossoms, wooed by gravity, weigh down the world and the birds have left their huddling nest beneath window eves long before I leave for work. The morn of March has been no different. March on, March on, March on - I beat the day's fatigue into gristly pavement and turned my face to the calm ripples of Green Lake. A rainbow arched low and thick over the still lake and fell into the gold-clad houses just beyond. I stopped to remember God's faithfulness to Noah. March on, tired soul - He is yet here to claim you.