Tuesday is our first day of school. This is the first time the boys and I will be in a classroom all day long since the spring of 2020. It will be the first time that we have to be at school by 7:15 since 2009 when I stopped teaching Kindergarten. It will be Malcolm's first year in middle school, Eamon's last year in middle school, and my first year teaching history and math to anyone besides my own children.
I am terribly excited, using the Latin root meaning instead of the intensifying meaning.
The argument between "I can't" and "In God's Strength" is my moment by moment battle.
One part of my brain and soul argue: What do I think I'm doing? How is this change a good idea? I'm not ready. There is not a possibility of being as prepared as I want to be. I'm scared. I don't know these kids. I'm out of practice in the classroom. I don't have classroom expectations or seating plans or procedures. I don't have time to work it all out and plan lessons. I'm going to start out on the wrong foot and it is going to ruin the rest of the year.
But another part of my brain and soul respond: We knew a change had to happen; our previous arrangement was not going to work long term without significant changes. I cannot rely on preparation anyway; I need to prepare as much as possible, then rely on God for the rest. God provided all the necessary things to make this happen; He won't stop now. God is with us. He will give us the strength we need to fulfill the tasks He has set before us. God doesn't expect us to be perfect, He perfects/completes us. He restores the broken people and he uses broken people to help restore a broken world.
The argument rages back and forth, sometimes in my thought processes, but most often in my subconscious. I work, I doubt, I plan, I pray. But then on Sunday...on Sunday, I rest.
It has happened all month long. By the time Sunday morning rolls around, I am a wreck from fighting this battle. I am tired and have nothing left to give. I use the last fumes to make it to church and get through a Sunday School discussion. Then there is the last minute rush of getting the sound and music in order for the worship service. Thomas gives the announcements, plays the prelude, and prays the invocation. The congregation reads the Psalms responsively. I listen, usually catching up with organizing papers, wires, and volume levels.
Then we sing a hymn. This is the moment my rest begins. For the service, even my participation (leading the hymns, sometimes reading, sometimes collecting the offering, sometimes taking the microphone around for prayer request) is joyful participation in the worship of God. It isn't stressed or rushed; it has felt natural, like I'm doing what I was made for. And the sermons have been good too. God has used Thomas to bring new light to familiar passages by telling stories, or giving analogies, or explaining the nuances of words, or faithfully reading the Scripture passages slowly, giving context, but mostly letting the Holy Spirit speak through the Word of God.
By the time the service is done, I am refreshed. The argument has been restored into the Lord's Prayer.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name.
Thy Kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven
Give us this day, our daily bread.
Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation.
For Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory forever.
Amen.
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