"My week is not my own, but...."
Quite a few readers will recognize the structure of this quote, knowing that it finishes with "belongs to my faithful savior, Jesus Christ" from the Heidelberg Catechism Q&A 1. I rediscovered the truth of this statement last week, my first after a long (too long) summer of unstructured activity for Karen, who spent so much time here that she began to think this was her new normal. Finally, Calvin College started; I could begin to find my new normal of volunteering, practicing, studying and writing. Chuck went off to teach Monday, but I had to wait one more day as Karen was here because she didn't start until Tuesday. Even then, I could not count on a week that was "mine" to fill as I pleased.
Right after lunch on Tuesday, I drove over a little beyond campus for my first piano lesson from a seminarian's wife (whom I met at ESL registration). I went back to campus to use the library until time to go to a class to which I'd been invited with an eye to my possibly teaching a section of it next year....then supper with Chuck and my first ESL class at church. No sooner did I sit down to work than my phone rang (note to self--turn off phone in library); it was a friend in crisis. I knew that if I helped her I would miss the class. Remembering Sunday's sermon on I Peter 5 about our need to be shepherds to each other, I reluctantly emailed the class supervisor and told her I would not be there and spent the next two hours helping my harried, frantic friend. (If your imagination stretches that far, think of me as the getaway car driver.) Then a quick supper during which I dumped all my frustrations on Chuck and then off to the chaos of the first evening of ESL (I didn't teach all that well, but the first day is about discovering a match between student and materials; nevertheless, I felt badly about it.) Wednesday--At the invitation of a friend, I attended my first morning at Community Bible Study, also across town in another direction. We'll see how I do in a homework Bible Study--it's been years since I have done anything but teach. (Another whole precious morning gone out of my schedule, but at my choice.) Thursday morning: a call from K's housemother, concerned by abnormal behavior that probably indicates a steep slip into depression. The psych people are super about ordering a med she had stopped (at my instigation because of her sluggishness) this summer, but I go to campus early to touch bases with her boss at work. After all, this is only day 3 for her and she's getting back into that work groove. We also decide that we will take her out for a bit this weekend though that had not been in our original schedule. Her dad runs into her cafeteria to give her a hug just before lunch. At the lunch hour I go to a wonderful lecture by a retired prof on her childhood under Hitler and Stalin (postponing a training meeting to be a mentor to a Calvin student), and then go to another remote edge of campus to meet another prof (a friend of Jenny's from her Holland church) who wants to know a bit more about Islam before he does some consulting in a north African country. Then library work, supper (out again!!) with Chuck and ESL. This time with material that matched the students' abilities, we have a great evening. 8 miles home through the dark and rain. Friday, finally, I can work at my article all day though we have an early supper so that we can take Karen out for a jaunt around the mall near her. Saturday morning, the rain now heavy as it would be for two days, I have my training meeting.
So much for a leisurely, well-paced week, filled with writing, reading, study, practicing, volunteering, each in its own little pre-ordained space. I have decided not to teach ESL twice a week because of this week's experience and because we have been invited to a conflicting church small group two Tuesdays a month. Instead I'll sub those Tuesdays I can be there. Karen seems better, though her emotions are still right below the surface, and we are trusting that this trend will continue. This week has begun more like I had imagined, but with my new awareness of "My week is not my own..."
Right after lunch on Tuesday, I drove over a little beyond campus for my first piano lesson from a seminarian's wife (whom I met at ESL registration). I went back to campus to use the library until time to go to a class to which I'd been invited with an eye to my possibly teaching a section of it next year....then supper with Chuck and my first ESL class at church. No sooner did I sit down to work than my phone rang (note to self--turn off phone in library); it was a friend in crisis. I knew that if I helped her I would miss the class. Remembering Sunday's sermon on I Peter 5 about our need to be shepherds to each other, I reluctantly emailed the class supervisor and told her I would not be there and spent the next two hours helping my harried, frantic friend. (If your imagination stretches that far, think of me as the getaway car driver.) Then a quick supper during which I dumped all my frustrations on Chuck and then off to the chaos of the first evening of ESL (I didn't teach all that well, but the first day is about discovering a match between student and materials; nevertheless, I felt badly about it.) Wednesday--At the invitation of a friend, I attended my first morning at Community Bible Study, also across town in another direction. We'll see how I do in a homework Bible Study--it's been years since I have done anything but teach. (Another whole precious morning gone out of my schedule, but at my choice.) Thursday morning: a call from K's housemother, concerned by abnormal behavior that probably indicates a steep slip into depression. The psych people are super about ordering a med she had stopped (at my instigation because of her sluggishness) this summer, but I go to campus early to touch bases with her boss at work. After all, this is only day 3 for her and she's getting back into that work groove. We also decide that we will take her out for a bit this weekend though that had not been in our original schedule. Her dad runs into her cafeteria to give her a hug just before lunch. At the lunch hour I go to a wonderful lecture by a retired prof on her childhood under Hitler and Stalin (postponing a training meeting to be a mentor to a Calvin student), and then go to another remote edge of campus to meet another prof (a friend of Jenny's from her Holland church) who wants to know a bit more about Islam before he does some consulting in a north African country. Then library work, supper (out again!!) with Chuck and ESL. This time with material that matched the students' abilities, we have a great evening. 8 miles home through the dark and rain. Friday, finally, I can work at my article all day though we have an early supper so that we can take Karen out for a jaunt around the mall near her. Saturday morning, the rain now heavy as it would be for two days, I have my training meeting.
So much for a leisurely, well-paced week, filled with writing, reading, study, practicing, volunteering, each in its own little pre-ordained space. I have decided not to teach ESL twice a week because of this week's experience and because we have been invited to a conflicting church small group two Tuesdays a month. Instead I'll sub those Tuesdays I can be there. Karen seems better, though her emotions are still right below the surface, and we are trusting that this trend will continue. This week has begun more like I had imagined, but with my new awareness of "My week is not my own..."
posted by Barb @ 11:24 AM
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