Athena: Jumble

Dear Augustine,

There are so many things swirling around in my head--and this is why I've always quit blogging before. Trying to pin any particular train of thought down and wrangle it into something coherent seems impossible so much of the time.

I want to write about the sermon today--which was painful and felt like a betrayal of a confidence, even though I know that wasn't the intent. Or I could write about the blessed joy of running into my good friend in the vestibule as I was literally running out of church after the service--a friend whom I couldn't explain things to, but whom I could hug. Somebody who got part of the anxiety that I've been feeling that's flowing together with everything else. Or I might need to write about the drama of this afternoon--of the death of a marriage that will be unfolding over the course of the next few months, or the death of a lovely church acquaintance, for whom I sang the eonia--all the way down to church.

But I'm not sure if I could pick one of those things, the thoughts are spinning too rapidly and they feel unfocused. And some of them I might explore over the course of the next few weeks, some I might never get to [and I have to learn to be okay with thoughts that fail to find their expression. That could be a whole other post.]

Instead I want to write about some of my students, because I thought of them while reading about your friend [may their memory be eternal]. Of my own student with CP who had such trouble pressing the calculator buttons...but was very good in math and is now a successful college student. Of the dear, dear heart who had selective mutism...and through some small miracles overcame their anxiety and began to speak with us, whose words--even now, years later--still feel like miracles. Or the other one who overcame anxiety and abuse, codependent friendships and finally the difficult transition of coming out...and is now engaged to be married and happy, teaching a class full of children with autism. Or the one I ran into this evening, whom I only taught for a year...and yet who excitedly told me all about their life and seemed sorry to see me go. Or the students in my current school who battle anxiety and learn that it's okay and figure out coping strategies...ones who are great conquerors of all things.

Every student is somehow a small miracle. There have been a few cases where I couldn't always see it--where my best efforts fell short or my own personal weaknesses and frustrations clouded my vision. But I still believe it to be true, even in the cases I didn't get to see for myself. It's an incredible thing to see them flourish and grow and come into their own--in both expected and unexpected ways.

And maybe I needed that reminder to face the upcoming week.

+Athena