Of Bears and Penguins

While Blythe was here in Baltimore she told me that she had read something about, and I paraphrase, putting your credo into 6 words. 6 words to describe the way you wish to live, how you define it. 6 words is not a lot.
This was (is) mine:
"Hand to the plow, forward ho."
I don't think I could have come up with anything better than that.

There are four weeks left in the school year; between field trips and school assemblies it promises to be a busy time. Texas is so close that I can taste it. Some of my friends are traveling the world this summer, but I'm more than content to turn my feet toward Texas.

I grow weary in the work, and it's hard not to give up sometimes. But hand to the plow, you know.

I read through the book of Jonah yesterday. Of course all Bible characters are human, but some seem much more human than others, and I always seem to identify with the worst of them - Thomas "I'll believe it when I see it."
Peter "I talk a good game, but lose it when it counts."
Moses "I'm a stubborn fool."
and Jonah "I'll go my own way, thank you very much."

Anyway, I don't like Jonah much, but I know him. After he goes to Nineveh, he gets angry because (long story short) the Lord shows compassion on the people. God asks Jonah what right he has to be angry, and of course, the answer is none.

This hit me hard this week, because it's ever so easy to throw myself a pity party here. And the question that comes to me when I want to call a friend and whine and ask sympathy, the answer that comes (as I know it should) is "So what?"

I'm fed, clothed and sheltered. I've friends and family who pray for me. I've hobbies and enjoyments and experiences to fall back on. Whereas the kids I teach have not. So what does it matter when I have a tough day, a lot of the students I teach have tough lives.

What right have I to a pity party? None.

So humbled, I reach my hand once more the plow, placing the traces about my shoulder. Forward ho.