Three students were absent from my class this morning, and one other was listed on a private memo as “living dead” and could be pulled from class without notice at any moment. The high school where I teach a dual-credit Texas Government class for the local community college was conducting a Shattered Dreams exercise. The three missing students were involved in a faux drunk-driving scenario designed to startle kids into compliance with underage drinking laws.

I know it was just a performance, and I know it was geared toward the students, but it was troublesome to try to teach my class with three kids out and knowing that one could “drop dead” at any moment. I’ve had enough grief in my life to have to deal with fake grief, too.

The good news about my class is that my “observation” day was last week, and I’ve already received some positive (albeit informal … the official report will follow) feedback. That made me feel good! 🙂  I’m enjoying teaching, but I’m still working out the kinks in lesson planning and whatnot. Some days, I think I learn as much as they do! 🙂

Back to the Shattered Dreams exercise … it’s just one more stark reminder to cherish each day. Don’t take it for granted. If there’s someone you have on your heart who you feel like you ought to write or call, don’t procrastinate. Let them know that you care, because we aren’t promised tomorrow.

We were detoured on the way to Kidzone (kids’ church) Wednesday evening. In fact, we had to go several miles out of the way to get to the church the back way. Our church is on a country road off of another country road that is also a pretty major thoroughfare (Yes, a country road can also be a major thoroughfare, LOL). The road was barricaded before the bridge, and we found out later that from the other direction, it was barricaded at the state highway. We turned around and made the circuitous way through back roads around the blockage, and we prayed together in the car for whatever the situation was that had the road closed, because we figured it couldn’t be a good reason to block the whole road. As details began to unfold, we found out that it was a car accident, and a double fatality, at that. A man from my parents’ church was killed, as well as the other driver, an elderly man. Between that too-close-to-home wreck and the cell phone-gabbing teeny-bopper who nearly side-swiped me later in the evening, I mused aloud that I didn’t even want to leave the house today. I wanted to just let all the kids pile in bed with me and spend a Snuggle Day watching movies and staying in our pjs. A friend encouraged me to take a “mental health day,” and as much as it sounds appealing, I didn’t think I should skip a day of work (or the kids a day of school) just because I was waxing nostalgic and feeling overly protective. Besides, after about an hour of Snuggle Day this morning, I’m sure the boys would’ve been stir-crazy and start driving me bonkers. :p It does put a sobering perspective on the day-to-day routine, though. We are not promised tomorrow. I wish I’d thought to pick up the phone again, just to tell my brother that I loved him, but I enjoy the memory that our last conversation was a funny one (at my expense, but funny, nonetheless). If I were to die unexpectedly, I wouldn’t want anyone in my life to ever question how much I cared about them. I would hope that I’ve said enough “I love you”s to help them have happy memories, too. I explained to the boys that one of the people who died was a helper-pastor at his church, so at bedtime prayers, No. 5 asked God “to help the pastor who volunteered to have a fun time in heaven.” Indeed. I look forward to what I call {Revelation 21:3-4 Day} because “there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.” Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Downtown Waco blanketed in fog

We have had very foggy mornings this week. As I was driving to the school to teach my adjunct class early Wednesday morning, I was thinking about the gloomy feeling that seems to accompany fog. I had started out the day pretty ok, all things considered. The boys and I did a hot cocoa toast and clinked our mugs in my brother’s honor on the 4th anniversary of his death. We speculated whether four years is even enough time to see everything in heaven, or if perhaps he’s still exploring.

Maybe it was the alone time of being in the car, not trying to put on a strong face for the kids, just listening to music that detoured my thoughts. A song came on the radio, “Whom Shall I Fear.” One of my favorite lines says, “The God of angel armies is always by my side. The One who reigns forever, he is a friend of mine.” The song brings to mind Romans 8:31-39, which talks about our ability to conquer our adversaries, with God alongside us. In the interview linked above, songwriter Chris Tomlin mentions a story in 2 Kings 6 where Elisha prayed for a servant’s eyes to be open to see the spiritual army that God had rallied on their behalf.

I love the entire song, but the lyrics that opened the tear ducts went something like this: “Though darkness fills the night, it cannot hide the light.” Four years. I miss him so much, and sometimes it still feels very foggy. And yet, the fog will not linger forever! It will come and go on many a morning, but as surely as the sun rises, the fog dissipates.  God is faithful, and though we cannot always see very far ahead of where we are, in this moment, we can rely on the fact that he is always by our side. I’m so thankful that the One who reigns forever was also a friend of my brother’s, and someday, I’ll get to spend eternity together with both of them!