I will be 52 this year and so far I have learned that there are only two really absolute and constant truths that you can count on. The first one is that hindsight is always 20/20 and the second is that life will change.
Back in late 2013 I wrote a blog to announce my retirement as an educator--almost sounds important don't it? Any way, I was really proud of that blog and what I said in it ("Will Write for Food"). Feel free to go back and take a look at it.
Guess what? My life changed. In early 2014 we learned that Beth had cancer ("Cancer, Conversation, Corners, & Infinite Space"). Obviously that kind of news can profoundly affect your perspective, and while it was an experience that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy I'm grateful for it. It taught me a great deal about myself.
For starters, while I'm capable of very good things I can also be a selfish bastard with powerful demons that often shout down my better angels.
It was hard to see Beth so sick and to be so powerless. To this day, I don't know why God chose us for that test, but we were blessed to survive it. Perhaps I needed to feel his strength in my humility? Maybe, there's a third truth that I've heard a million times, but never bought into. That famous quote containing the "F" word.
"Life's not fair."
It's really not, you know. It's hard too, but it's also very good.
Take teaching for instance, it's hard. I've never felt like I was really all that good at it. Some things I did well. Reading literature, discussing it, and breaking it down for kids are all strengths. Other things I struggle with. Teaching kids to write and express themselves is a nasty challenge for me. Their collective apathy seems to exacerbate my ineptitude. It's an area of my personal pedagogy that I can hopefully improve upon. For some reason, Providence has seen fit to put me in a place that affords me that opportunity.
"If you say so, God, then I shall bloom where I'm planted, but I'm gonna do it under protest. I was really hoping to finish that novel."
"Yes, I know, but this is good practice for it don't you think?"
"Yes, sir, I suppose so. I am about 75% done you know?"
"Of course I know. That's when it gets hard."
"Really?"
"Oh, Myself, yes. You should have seen Dickens and Twain when they got to that point."
"No, kidding."
"Absolutely, and I'll tell you something else. Hemingway and Salinger were much, much worse."
"I can believe that."
"Interesting word choice there."
"Which one?"
"Why, 'believe' of course."
"How so?"
"Because you believe in so much."
"I do?"
"You know you do. And like so many, you forget so easily. Me and Santa Claus for example. You still believe in both of us don't you?"
"I do. It's just--"
"The unbelief thing, right?"
"Right.'I do believe; help my unbelief.' Mark 9:24. The doubt is part and parcel with the faith. Isn't it, Father?"
"It always has been, Michael. That and the fact that no small part of having faith is remembering that I have faith in you. When you maintain hope in those children that seem so ungrateful, so rude, so apathetic and so disrespectful you mimic me. And when you help the one's that don't deserve your help or even a modicum of your compassion you mimic Him, my son. Can't you feel our pleasure?"
"At times, yes, Father I can, but it's hard."
"What? Being ignored and unappreciated? I wouldn't know anything about that, but you can handle it. When you were a child you once thought your name was boring. Do you remember?"
"Yes, I remember."
"Then remember this. You bear the name of my bravest and fiercest Archangel. That is not a coincidence. Those don't exist."
"Do you really think some of them need me?"
"We, meaning you and I, know that many of them need you. I'm sorry that many of them will never know or appreciate all that you do."
"Do you still like Greek mythology?"
"Yes, Father, I do."
"What was in the bottom of Pandora's box?"
"Hope."
"One of my favorite words, my son. I like it better than Amen."
Teaching is what I do and being a teacher is who I am. Sadly, I don't always feel great about it, but the time I took off to be with Beth helped me to see that it's not a bad life. My dad once told me, "They don't pay you for good days." I was looking at the job all wrong. For a long time all I thought about was the impossibility of doing it for another decade. The semester and a half away helped me to shift my focus and contemplate the potential of the people I might be able to help in a decade. I also had no idea how much I would miss my colleagues. That and the fact that Carson is entertaining the idea of going to college in a couple of years. I really do love that kid even though he can be a selfish little bastard. I can't imagine where he gets that from?
As always, thanks for stopping by and staying till the end.
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