These are the kinds of signs I dream of, the ones that help in making decisions. Lately I've been tempted to walk up to Eden Grace's house, and rap on the door and say, "OK, time to tell me where I'm headed next." It was she who, in 2014, introduced me to Joyce Ajlouni, my first contact at the Ramallah Friends School. It was she who, in February 2016, came to Palestine and told me about Earlham's MAT program. So where to now, Eden?
I've been asking God too, and I struggle all the time with the idea that God reveals things on his timing. I want to know where I'm going to be next year, right now.
Today I got a beautiful metaphorical reminder that God's timing isn't designed to frustrate me, it's designed to make sure I don't jump the gun with my own actions, or stay too long in one situation which is not the right one.
It was a long few days in the 9th and 10th grade classrooms. I finished on Friday afternoon having worked frantically through lunch with several students who were a) irate that their grades for their final Macbeth essays were so low and wanted to edit and resubmit and b) trying to download video portions of their presentations for the afternoon classes. Just before fifth period I scarfed my lentil soup, cold, while standing in front of the computer.
After school I organized all the presentation rubrics from the afternoon's classes, and let the feeling of Friday wash over me. It was not a particularly calming feeling this week, given that we're starting two new units next week, both of which I have yet to plan. I felt agitated. It was 65 degrees and I wanted to go running, but the western sky was ominous and the hourly forecast promised scattered thunder storms.
I decided to go out anyway. It was already raining when I jumped off the porch, but it wasn't raining hard. After a few minutes when my body warmed up, it was perfect to have the light rain as a perpetual shower. There were very few cars on the road, and no runners on the footpath.
It was getting dark fast, not just because it was 5:45, but because the clouds were now really moving in. I contemplated whether to shorten the route. It was such a pleasant run. I thought I probably should, since as I approached the fork that would take me home early, lightning brightened the sky three times.
Just as I approached the foot of the stairs and was about the forego them and keep going, a fork of lightning jabbed the sky and thunder sounded shortly afterward. I said aloud, "OK!" and went up the stairs to the shortcut home.
The rest of the way home was fairly peaceful, but not 30 seconds after I got onto the porch, the lightning became at least four times as frequent, and the rain began falling in torrents.
That lightning was God, telling me right at the moment of necessary action, "Turn here". I didn't get a warning before then, because I was still enjoying the run, and it was still OK to be running. When God was ready for me to redirect my energy, for my own best interest, he let me know with a gesture I couldn't ignore.
That's the way it's going to be with where I end up teaching next year. I really don't need to know right now where I'm going to be. I'm still enjoying the "run" where I am now. And this is still the right place for me. God will let me know when to take a sharp turn up the stairs when it's time for me to actually jump.
I've been asking God too, and I struggle all the time with the idea that God reveals things on his timing. I want to know where I'm going to be next year, right now.
Today I got a beautiful metaphorical reminder that God's timing isn't designed to frustrate me, it's designed to make sure I don't jump the gun with my own actions, or stay too long in one situation which is not the right one.
It was a long few days in the 9th and 10th grade classrooms. I finished on Friday afternoon having worked frantically through lunch with several students who were a) irate that their grades for their final Macbeth essays were so low and wanted to edit and resubmit and b) trying to download video portions of their presentations for the afternoon classes. Just before fifth period I scarfed my lentil soup, cold, while standing in front of the computer.
After school I organized all the presentation rubrics from the afternoon's classes, and let the feeling of Friday wash over me. It was not a particularly calming feeling this week, given that we're starting two new units next week, both of which I have yet to plan. I felt agitated. It was 65 degrees and I wanted to go running, but the western sky was ominous and the hourly forecast promised scattered thunder storms.
I decided to go out anyway. It was already raining when I jumped off the porch, but it wasn't raining hard. After a few minutes when my body warmed up, it was perfect to have the light rain as a perpetual shower. There were very few cars on the road, and no runners on the footpath.It was getting dark fast, not just because it was 5:45, but because the clouds were now really moving in. I contemplated whether to shorten the route. It was such a pleasant run. I thought I probably should, since as I approached the fork that would take me home early, lightning brightened the sky three times.
Just as I approached the foot of the stairs and was about the forego them and keep going, a fork of lightning jabbed the sky and thunder sounded shortly afterward. I said aloud, "OK!" and went up the stairs to the shortcut home.
The rest of the way home was fairly peaceful, but not 30 seconds after I got onto the porch, the lightning became at least four times as frequent, and the rain began falling in torrents.
That lightning was God, telling me right at the moment of necessary action, "Turn here". I didn't get a warning before then, because I was still enjoying the run, and it was still OK to be running. When God was ready for me to redirect my energy, for my own best interest, he let me know with a gesture I couldn't ignore.
That's the way it's going to be with where I end up teaching next year. I really don't need to know right now where I'm going to be. I'm still enjoying the "run" where I am now. And this is still the right place for me. God will let me know when to take a sharp turn up the stairs when it's time for me to actually jump.
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