Recently I've been battling the desire for ease and comfort. I've found myself making mental lists of the things I miss about teaching at Heritage: the print room (saving me having to make all my own copies and unjam the copier myself), the tight-knit community, praying out loud, whiteboards, windows that open and let in air and sunshine in my classroom, students who are more motivated, and on and on the list goes.
This semester is easier than last semester, but it's still hard. The culture shock has worn off, my expectations are more realistic now, I've figured out shortcuts to help me deal with the work and fit into this place, but it's still a battle. Some days it's a battle just to drag myself there. The uncertainty wears on me: what will the next crisis be? When will it arise? What will I have to do about it? Here there is no guarantee that today is going to be an ordinary day. No guarantee that I won't have to deal with a huge crisis, like race-related violence, or a fight in the halls, or a major conflict where a student starts cussing someone out...a guarantee I definitely took for granted before.
The pain continues to wear on me too. This week I had another student crying, and after listening figured out she was afraid of being beaten when she went home...sent her down to the counselor to get some help, because I had no idea what to do. My student helper that I just adore couldn't see today...not enough money for new contacts as often as she needs them and no glasses (finances). Another student whose father just died of cancer, and on and on, the fallout of poverty, sometimes economic, sometimes spiritual, sometimes both.
All this adds to the normal April slump, after spring break when everyone just mentally moves right into summer break, but we still have more school to do. The normal wear and tear of kids just tuning you out, even though I am working so hard to help them learn and stay tuned in. Some days it seems to do no good.
It's easy in all this to lose perspective. To forget that the eternal is what I am to fix my eyes upon. To think that my job at Heritage was absolute paradise (when it wasn't; it brought its fair share of heartache too, and was also difficult, especially at first), and to just want to go back to where life was easy and comfortable.
But following Jesus isn't about easy and comfortable. Jesus only promised us suffering in this world. I think God is trying to beat out of my head this notion that life shouldn't be painful, that it should be fun and games and looking forward to things every day. It isn't. God promises comfort in our trials so that we can comfort others eventually. He promises that life will be free from suffering only AFTER the Evil One and death are thrown into the lake of fire. That hasn't happened yet.
So in the meantime as my heart aches from exhaustion, from seeing others suffering, from my own personal discomfort on many levels, I am forced back to the One who promises to redeem suffering, and to make all things work together for good.
