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The Door Swings Wide (New)

August 19, 2011

And here comes another Friday for us, dear friends.  Time to ready ourselves for the weekend, for some sense of calmness, and for freedom with our writing.  On Fridays we link up with Lisa-Jo, The Gypsy Mama, and write for 5 straight minutes without worrying if we’ve got it wrong – if we’ve said it wrong.  We just let our fingers tap away on the keyboard and throw our haphazard thoughts out there because we can!  Come on over and join us, won’t you?

Our prompt this week: new

Go.

I’m starting to twiddle my thumbs.  I’m starting to tap my fingers together.  My blood pressure picks up a little bit, then falls, as I breathe through the anticipation of another start to a school year.  Another year of working with kids, pouring into kids, and praying everyday that I’m doing this thing right.  That I’m saying the right things, guiding in the right ways, and providing as much personal wisdom as I do academic.

What kids don’t know is that we are just as nervous as they are.  In a little over one week, my door will swing wide to new relationships and challenges and possibilities.  My door will swing wide to unanswerable questions, emotions of young love, patience-tested and smiles-given.  My door will swing wide to a physical place that I hope is a safe haven.  That I hope is a source of encouragement and support.  But I’m nervous.  What will they think?

I make my plans every year.  I map out in my mind what I think working with kids will look like – should look like.  And every year, at the end of it all, I look back and think about what I would have done differently – should have done differently.  What else could I have said?  What more could I have done?  Did she need that extra hug?  Did he need that extra day of grace to get the project done?  Did I respond the way I should have?

So many questions, but yet the door always swings wide.  Perhaps that is the best I can do.  Pull down the handle.  Turn it to the left.  Open my door.  Welcome.

Yes, yes, come in.  You are welcome here.

End.

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6 Comments leave one →
  1. August 19, 2011 12:33 pm

    Beautiful! I always find it funny how someone else (a stranger even) can put into words exactly how I’m feeling without ever even meeting me. It’s just God helping me find my kindred spirits. My sisters in Him.
    I struggle daily hoping that I’m getting it right. Making their childhoods the way they’re supposed to be. Cherishing these three lives that God has entrusted to me. So I too will take the challenge of swinging my door open wide to let God in and lay my children, my marriage, my home, and myself in His hands.

    <
    Tracey

  2. August 19, 2011 1:02 pm

    I never thought about the teachers being nervous before. That’s a new insight for me. But now that you say it, I wonder why I never thought about it when I was younger- it’s a new year for them, too, new students, new challenges.

    Best wishes to you as you start the new school year!

    Stopping by from The Gypsy Mama.

  3. August 19, 2011 1:10 pm

    Sweet words!

    Traci @ Ordinary Inspirations
    http://ordinaryinspirations.blogspot.com/2011/08/new-life.html

  4. August 19, 2011 3:18 pm

    Oh, thank you for that perspective! It is reassuring to read that you see your responsibility in much the same way a parent approaches their responsibility…wrapped in love. Thank you for what you do, for opening your heart and for pouring into children year after year.

  5. August 19, 2011 9:01 pm

    I taught for a very brief time and like to kind of keep my oar in with “teaching stuff” at church (VBS, Sunday School, etc). I miss that new feeling and the anticipation. I miss all the new relationships you get to create and finding your own way with each of your students. I’m so thankful for good and committed teachers like you. Keep doing what you’re doing. You make a difference!

  6. August 20, 2011 10:30 am

    How truthful and sweet this post is! I was a teacher as well; I completely understand that nervousness. Praying all goes well. Stopping by from The Gypsy Mama (a little late:) ).

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