It’s past 6 a.m. and I’m not at work

I hope that every teacher in the Denver metro area that follows my blog is NOT reading this post right now. That’s right, I’m hoping for a low readership for a while. It’s 6:33 a.m., and I’m not parking near the glass doors of my school. Sleepy faces are not greeting me. Rather, I’m staring at the potpourri on my table, listening to the wind knock the welcome sign against my front door, hearing the scratch of snow shovels and plows trying to make sense of the heaven’s outpouring.

It’s a snow day!

Beautiful, beautiful snow day. . .

A nap is in order later this morning, since I’ve been wide awake since 5 a.m. and only intermittently asleep before that. The last month has brought a bout of insomnia and weird dreams that are not appreciated.

But, God has been good this week. With the challenge of teaching and working on grad school assignments has also come the realization and identification of what I crave for the next academic year. I desires to be “all in.” For far too long, I’ve filled too many roles – student, teacher, counselor, patient. As the realization and uncertainty of the future sets in with David’s imminent return to engineering school, I want to flee from the lessons I’ve learned – the lessons about waiting, the lessons about trust. I don’t mind adventure, but I abhor unknown. Tell me where I am leaping from and where I am leaping toward, and I will jump from any terrifying cliff. However, don’t tell me to jump without direction, without purpose, without focus. I crave focus.

There are very few things in my life that I feel passionately about anymore . . . I hate that state, that state of exhaustion mixed heavily with an uncaring attitude. As I lay next year’s options before the Lord, my prayer contains quite a few panicked breathes, but also many pleas for direction – one single direction – and passion. Passion for what I do everyday. Passion for the people I am around.

Passion is different from compassion. I can’t help but feel compassion for every scraped knee and wounded heart that crosses my path. Passion, however, is different in that it hones copious compassion into a specific target audience and a specific target goal. Passion makes exhaustion worth it.

That is what I am praying for, hoping for, seeking. That, and many more snow days . . . 🙂