I just walked out of my classroom.
My hands and arms are filled.
A basket, two teaching manuals, an external hard drive, my coat, a bag, and my purse are weighing me down.
I left my camera bag behind.
My eyes are watering.
My nose has been dripping all day long.
My head is down.
I don’t want to look up.
I know I should, but I don’t want to.
I’m tired.
It’s 3:45.
I’m supposed to be driving to Echo right now.
I’m late.
I don’t stop at my car.
I keep walking across the parking lot.
And I make my way right into the office of the assistant superintendent of my school district.
She’s one of my bosses, she’s my sister-in-law, but most importantly she’s my friend.
I sit down, dropping my armload of things to the ground.
I’m tired.
And I need to cry.
So I sit there.
My face buried in my hands, and I cry.
And you know what … sometimes, the best thing a person can do is {
untie} their worries and fears.
I’ve been all tied up.
{
knotted} to be exact.
Frustrated with my time management skills – or lack thereof.
Exhausted with the work, home, ranch schedule this season of my life has brought.
Overwhelmed with the great resources I have as a teacher – not knowing where to really start.
Knot after knot after knot.
Oh, I could tell you that I have it all together.
I could show you pictures of a perfectly organized desk, a balanced check book, and a clean car.
I could write words that would lead you to believe that my life is totally and completely under control and that the teacher who’s picture was on the front page of last Sunday’s paper is worthy of such fame.
But I can’t.
Honesty & sincerity are what I’m striving for here.
So …
I think I’d like to be seen as a shoelace or maybe even a piece of baling twine.
A shoelace that is tied in a neat bow, but free of knots.
A piece of twine with color and sparkle.
A shoelace that’s not unraveled or shredding at the tip.
A piece of twine that’s not tripping anything or anyone up.
Because, if it’s free of knots, it’s doing its job.
It’s making the world around it fit just right.
It’s holding things together.
It’s serving a unique and special purpose.
And even when it does come untied, it rests easy … knowing that with a little encouragement and some caring fingers and hands, it will be holding everything together again very soon.
