The One With the First Week of School.

When I was completing my lifeguard courses, ages and ages ago, the instructor said that if at any time we went through a traumatic incident, we should talk about it as much as possible and avoid keeping it bottled in. “Post it to Facebook when you get home,” she said. She meant traumatic in the sense of saving someone’s life or keeping someone from injury, I’m sure. But today was pretty traumatic for me. Just me, thankfully; nobody else’s life was at stake. So here’s the Facebook post I always said I’d never write—the one about my day and everything that went down. But today had its own specific formula of just enough “downs” to make it a proper first week of school, and so much goodness to keep me from having any right to complain. 
This morning I checked traffic and left home for my first day of work at a new job with 25min. to spare. But, of course, there was an accident on the highway and we stopped or crawled for about 10km. I had too little for breakfast and assumed a somewhat fetal sitting position for the rest of the

morning to keep stomach growls to a bare minimum; worked through a far too early lunch; got completely lost in a weightlifting class; realized there is no way I can keep all of my jobs; and found out there’s an 80% chance I might not graduate at the expected time after all, which of course, throws everything, and I mean everything, up in the air with no ground to land on. And then…five minutes out of the parking lot and onto the way home as I’m trying to focus on breathing…red lights come up on my dashboard, the accelerator peddle disconnects, and the car begins to stop.

As I stood there stroking my car and reliable companion of nearly 4 years as if it were a distressed pony, I realized that 1.) that is just weird, and 2.) I have no right to complain. You see, it could have been SO much worse. I was technically “only” 3.5min. late to work. I did have breakfast, and I did have a lunch, and I will graduate eventually, and the car? Well, it could have broken down after I had gotten on the highway, or worse this morning adding hours to those 3.5min., or perhaps even worse…it could have broken down yesterday when my parents were on the other side of the continent and I would have had no one to call. But it didn’t. 
So, while I just got home, and it kills me that I cannot figure anything out right now, I’m trying to hold on to the positives. The enough ‘ups’ to keep me hopeful. The patient and kind people He has put in my life through work, my amazing and understanding professors, and the people with whom I interact in the amazing place that is my school, including the sodexo workers in the lower caf who always smile. My dad who came to my rescue, and the toothless-cigarette smoking-painfully calm knight in shining tow-truck who came to my rescue on the side of a road. My amazing boyfriend who understands and gets barely a sentence or two from me throughout the entire day. The fact that, while I have no idea when I will get to sleep, I know that I will and know where and know it will be a safe place. But most of all, I’m trying to hold onto the promises that “God keeps His promise, and He will not allow you to be tested beyond your power to remain firm; at the time you are put to the test, He will give you the strength to endure it, and so provide you with a way out.” (1 Cor. 10:13) Amen to that.

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