perspective

I love the beach.

I love how coming away, slowing down life, and spending many hours outside in creation’s beauty alter one’s perspective.

I love how I can really think about things here. About life. About priorities. About where I’ve come from. About where I’m going. Here I can evaluate – re-evaluate – my goals. My dreams. My desires. I can encounter God full-force every time I look out the window. The ocean is as big as it was when I first came here at age five. It still awes me with its majesty. Its vastness.

Where I’ve come from is Germany, and my much-loved community there. I still ache to think of the Wittlingen girls returning to the dorm…knowing that I won’t be there. I feel the pain of loving long-distance; of wanting to be still a part of people’s lives in a way I was before, but now am not able to be. And yet I know God has led me away. I’m here, and somehow it’s right.

For those who don’t know yet, I do have a job this fall. It will start part-time since it’s a small school, and I’ll be teaching 8th grade composition and literature. From all my contact with other teachers and administrators so far, I have a wonderful impression of the school and I feel confident that God provided this job for me. I was about to give up on the idea of teaching this year, because I’d been turned down by several other schools (and never heard from the rest). It was frustrating because every principal I talked to was very positive, but they just didn’t have a place for me, or I was competing against people with more experience (and they won). So this job is a gift, and I’m grateful. To be able to work a job that is also a ministry, to teach great literature and writing, to work with kids…yeah, I’m grateful. God knew.

We’re off in a moment to eat dinner at a delicious seafood restaurant. Another yearly tradition. There’s something soothing about these traditions. They, along with the week of relaxation and deep-breath-taking, are helping me gain perspective for the challenges ahead. Bis später, my friends.

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