I’ve been thinking about what to write this week. I like ideas to sit in the back of my brain, marinate a while. That’s how I think through everything–lesson plans, major life decisions, and blog posts. I let my thoughts sit, marinate, deepen into what they need to be.
While those thoughts soaked in my brain, I realized that I have lost my grip.
Haven’t all writers and teachers? (That was a joke. Please, take yourself less seriously and laugh).
I realized that I have entirely lost my grip on my idea of what I thought Spring Semester of 2017 would look like.
“Laughing” I lost it all.
During this Spring Semester, the plan was to be a full-time graduate student. The paperwork was even signed for that.
During the Spring Semester, the plan was to continue working at my part-time job. I even had a to-do list of Spring projects recorded on sticky notes.
During the Spring Semester, I was supposed to spend 90% of my time in Nyack and start growing roots here. My schedule is now 80% of the time spent elsewhere, and I’d like to move closer to work.
During the Spring Semester, I was supposed to be asleep, blissful, and snoring at 5:30 a.m. Now, my alarm rings at the great tragedy of 5:20 a.m….
What happened was…an opportunity to teach in the city fell into my lap late last semester. Now, I’m here teaching an 8th Grade Reading class. I’m only taking one graduate class, and the place where I’m setting down roots is the city. It’s all incredibly bizarre to me. It’s also hilarious–in September I was stressing about ways to earn extra cash to pay rent. I even found a sketchy online tutoring place and was considering applying for a job. Honestly, it was all a little ridiculous.
During that entire process, God knew what I would be doing this semester, and I’m pretty sure one of the reasons I didn’t find out until late in the game is that God knows my natural tendency towards holding my grip. The Maker of Galaxies is insanely aware of our weaknesses. The Organizer of Galaxies knows that I try to organize, scheme and plan my way into success, grip a blue-printed life with white-knuckled hands.
The Artist of Galaxies, also knew I needed to learn to lose my grip on all of that–my plans, schedules, and blueprints, my idea for what I thought the next four months should be. It’s been wild ever since I was forced to do that. I’m still learning how to loosen my grip each day, learning to place the entirety of my being, the frailty of my soul, and anything regarding future days into His grip–after losing my own.
Friends, join me in the wildly bizarre and wildly beautiful process of losing your grip.