Lord, a little help, please? While I was teaching, my friends continued living their normal lives. I did too but normal was a little bit of newness all year, learning to hold together a classroom by day and a home by night...I am floundering with this space and time.
You are the One, who got me through. You shone just the right amount of wisdom at the right moment like salt and pepper to my bland fried egg. You did that when I was staying at home and not teaching too, I remember the moments of quietness with my Bible and cup of coffee and the zap of life You gave when I most needed it, even if it was only laundry I was dealing with that day.
Now though...I feel lost and alone; restless and exhausted in my mind. I don't know how to hold a decent conversation with my people. I don't know how to get involved with them again. I don't know how to care or be of some use to them. Have I chased everyone away with my narrow focus of learning to teach?
Broken down can be good. I know when I am weak; then You can be strong. Maybe, You are teaching me to learn. Yesterday, when I was with my husband and children white water rafting, and after many attempts at conversation without causing anxiety to my husband on the trip down and failing; I kept hearing this: "Listen with your mouth closed."
Was that You, God? The usual idea is to listen with your ears wide open. I think you were telling me to do this other thing. And not just with my husband. I think You are saying I need to learn to listen to my people's heartaches without my feeble words of comfort or wisdom; to just listen.
And provincial...I am a bit of a hick, a farm girl, and unsophisticated. I will not pretend otherwise. But please help me to learn the manners and kindness that even a hick, a farm girl, and the unsophisticated need.
And also, God of the huckleberries, I give them up to You this year...I will order my blueberries from my nephews in Oregon and let go of the idea of picking those luscious Idaho wonders in my surrounding mountains. I will have no other God's before me. Not in huckleberries, or manners or broken down times.