Sometimes I feel as if there is no way I could be stretched any thinner. Like I am so thin and brittle that anything, small or large, could barely breathe on me and I would shatter into a million little pieces. And yet, I still have a constant reassurance that I can do it. I can be a full-time teacher, educating 3 classes of 25 juniors. I can graduate from college in May at the age of 20. I can work full-time and take 7 classes.
I think that I have this hope because of a simple image that keeps repeating in my head.
Every morning I drive to King's High School. In order to get there, I have to cross the 520 bridge at 8:15 in the morning. And every single morning, without fail, there are endless red taillights that greet me. But there are times when I barely notice them because I am looking at the lake. The bridge separates Lake Washington like a belt. On right side, the water is tumultuous. There are always angry hissing waves that reach toward the sides of the bridge with eager arms. But on the left side, the water is calm, tranquil. A barrier of concrete creates this phenomenon.
Currently, that is my life. Crazy on one side and peaceful on the other. But my "barrier" is not feet of concrete that cars constantly pass upon. My "barrier", my "belt", my "separation" between the chaotic and the calm is God. I am slowly learning just how great my concrete God is.
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3 comments:
Wow, my dear cousin; You are truly growing up into such a fine and articulate young woman. I am so proud of your hard work and the woman you have become. I look forward to what all God has in store for you. Keep up the amazing attitude!
That is a wonderful image...remind me to tell you my rock story sometime.
With wise words, you deftly paint a profound and Eternal Truth.
Thank you for taking the time to put it down for us to read.
Continued blessings on your head.
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