[Enter blog side note statement AGAIN: I'm going to keep justifying the unorganized look of these posts until I figure out what I am doing wrong. Does anyone have pity for me and want to please tell me why the spacing is so ridiculous even after I change it? Why is this so difficult? Why? Why?]
My inaugural month at DBU was trying, as trying as trying gets for an eighteen year old. I had fallen in love with my nephews and niece throughout high school and was certain they would never remember me as I left them behind. I still frequently remind my nephew, now a ten-year-old who is getting too cool for auntie hugs and kisses, that he was my high school sweetheart. And I mean that--no boyfriends, all Gage! Anyway, I was definitely the girl that missed her parents also, though in college you act like you're cool and "loving" the new freedom.
I'm always shocked, amazed, astonished, and perplexed at how the Lord knows just what we need at just the right moment. The key to that is realizing that what He knows we need and what we think we need are often two very different things. (I'm still working on that "key" part.) However, when I moved into B1, He gave what He knew I needed and what I didn't know I needed then, and for the rest of my life. These ladies changed my idea of Jesus and cured my homesickness. We bonded like someone had poured Elmer's down our hallway. This time it wasn't Elmer's in its tangible form; it was the Elmer's that comes from the heart of Christ.
Traveling down the highway with my husband behind me in a Uhaul, I had no idea what the future held. The faucet of rain pouring on the windshield and the tears streaming down my face were symbolic of the anxiousness that resonated in my heart. I was a new wife, not having a clue how to be that. I would be entering the city limits of my new home in a new state with a new job. I had left behind my roommate and the greatest friend that I had known. Though I was certain that it was supposed to be an exciting, joy-filled time, and there was indeed a tinge of excitement as a newly wed, it was the concept of change that had been my nemesis from as far back as my mind could go. I had two weeks to unpack my home before I had to move to unloading and setting up my classroom. After unloading boxes and adding them to the already-furnished rooms, I only had a designated walking path to get through the 800 square foot apartment. The two weeks flew by as I unloaded new dishes, new pans, new sheets, and all of the paraphernalia that a new wife registers for, not at all certain that it will ever be used. Then I began the same process in my classroom. It's one thing to graduate from college and begin a teaching job with the state educational standards that you had based your career upon, but it's a whole new ball game to move to a new state and try to work through swamp of new standards while trying to just keep your head above water with everything else that is new. I'll never forget my first day to see my classroom. It's not because the room was anything special because it wasn't. It's just that I walked in to get my key only to be escorted by my principal to meet the coworker that he was certain I would "connect" with. At this point in my somewhat bitterness to the new-ness that surrounded me, making a connection was not a top priority. I just had too many other things to consider. He introduced me to Natalie, a young, cute, and peppy teacher that, I can now jokingly say that I was certain that she was too adorable and cool to be my friend. Little did I know that the Lord had other plans. You know, the plans He makes to prosper us and not to harm us but to give us a hope and a future. It was her second year at that school, and she willingly answered the never-ending questions that began and ended every conversation for the next couple of weeks. We clicked, and we did it quickly. That school year, filled with frustrations and the idea that "this career is not for me," was what I needed more than anything. I needed it so that I could look back and say that even in the midst of what was the worst teaching year of my life, the Lord was sweet and gracious enough to provide a friend, a shoulder to lean on and vent to, a running partner, and a piece of quickly-developed familiarity that would help ease the perpetual list of newness. Natalie has told me multiple times, in her sweet and humble manner, how much she needed my friendship. I always laugh at this, knowing I needed her so much more. The best part is that neither one of us knew it at the time. We were kindred spirits.
