So I'm sitting here in my living room on the last night of June 2011. A storm is passing outside in curtains of rain, washing the earth away (not to mention getting the inside of my car wet) and I can't help but internalize the water cycle into something profound. The art of cleansing. It assumes damage, it assumes mistakes, missteps, perhaps even recklessness. While pondering this over, it came to me: you have to start with mistakes in order to enjoy being clean. Over the past year and half I have thought back on my life 11,000 times. I have wondered why I didn't realize that I wanted to be a teacher sooner (like college!). I have daydreamed about the 4-5 years teaching experience I could have by now. I have kicked myself for starting this journey now, in this market, in this state and with these student loans. But I have to endure the truth that much like fire purifies metal, a storm also washes clean.
When I get to the other side of this chasm (and believe me I will get there), I will be a kick a$$ teacher. Now this is not solely because I received stupendous instruction from my graduate program (clears throat) or because my resume is spotless, but it will be because I fought for it. God lit a fire under me a few years ago and I can't put it out. There is so much about teaching that I adore: the light bulb moment a kid gets when you transpose an idea into a practical reality that they can grasp, the smile of appreciation, the collaboration of skills between educators, the sound of paper, scissors and glue hard at work. I get high from the smell of a classroom (permanent markers have nothing to do with it). This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I am married to this idea, there is no going back. So for the insight, I am thankful. For the situation, I have struggled with bitterness. But there is hope.
Recently, there have come a few new trends to my life. One is that I started running. Yes, you are reading the right page. Bekah Weglarz is running. To be honest, I hate it. But what is more invigorating is that I love hating it. I get off on taking my anger out on running, slinging it through the mud, pulling out it's teeth, soaking it in gasoline and lighting it on fire. Too graphic? Deal with it. I kick that son of a gun in the cajones 3 times a week. I am training for a 5K. Not that big of a run I know, but for me? Near impossible. What is even more stimulating is that this act of running is cleansing me. Not just of toxins that I sweat out and burned calories, but I'm less angry, less bitter. I don't dwell on the mediocre and distress of life anymore. I look forward to things, rest in the unknown and enjoy the moment. My soul is being cleansed.
I have also started my regular devotions again. My quiet time with the Lord in the mornings gives me strength, renews my mind, centers me for the day and reminds me why I'm here. I am here to love Him and others through him without agenda. I am not here for myself. Being in an occupation of service this summer has caused me to be humbled. I had to repel entitlement away and cling to opportunity. I am filling a need and providing a service for these families, I am to be Christ to these children. Screaming, crying, poopy diapers, messes, cartoons, toys, giggles, games, crawling, laughing and sleeping; these children are loved by God. If I cannot serve "the least of these", how can I expect to respect the children in my future classroom? The answer is I can't. I have to start here, I am being built to be a better teacher everyday.
I had to start dirty, but everyday I appreciate the cleanliness a little more.
